


Poetry for fish

by Saturne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel True Forms (Supernatural), Angels, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Biblical References, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean doesn't even appear until chapter 23, Destiel is not the main focus of the story, Gen, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV First Person, Pre-Series Castiel (Supernatural), Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-04-12 11:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 163,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturne/pseuds/Saturne
Summary: Dean doesn't quite seem to realize that Castiel is an ancient and powerful celestial being, God’s fearless weapon, an Angel that has lived through apocalypses and countless tragedies before. Shaped by millions of years of blind obedience, free will could turn out to be his undoing.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 197
Kudos: 74





	1. The Garrison

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [De la poésie pour poissons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/618024) by [Saturne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturne/pseuds/Saturne). 

> I decided to translate into english one of my longest fics (300k+ for now, still a WIP). It’s also the first fic I ever wrote so the first chapters are not the best I can offer, but just keep reading, you’ll see it gets better and longer.  
This story is entirely from Castiel’s point of view, from the moment he is created, through the Bible’s events, season 4, and at some point through season 5 it will turn to AU. The story doesn’t take account of anything that happens or is said in canon after season 5, but I use some characters from season 6 and 7 like Balthazar and Hester.  
I will update every sunday until I run out of translated chapters. Just so you know, I have translated 19 chapters so far.
> 
> I would like to thank Jackallh who helps me write this story by cheering me up and giving me ideas. There would be no story at all without him. And thank you CloudFactory, my betareader for the english translation, you’re the best!

Dark clouds veiling the sky and hurling thunderbolts at the rough sea. Deep shades of blue melding in a landscape of light and shadow.

This is my Father's work. I am living the first moments of the life He gave me.

The sand under my claws is sodden and waves crash into them at regular intervals.

A flash of pure white light tears up the distant horizon, again and again, in the deepest silence. Father is creating my brothers. I know it. I can feel it.

I turn to look at the Earth. The clouds are gradually parting. There are green hills and forests as far as I can see, so beautiful and so quiet, thriving in sunshine. The day star’s blaze is not so different from the light radiating from my body.

Treetops barely reach my claws.

I slowly stretch my wings and fold them back, waiting for orders.

* * *

The sun goes down, replaced by the moon wrapping the world with soft blue shadows. The ocean moves back, then up again to wet my feet.

A glowing halo has formed around me.

A touch on my shoulder. I allow myself to move and look up at the very first being to cross my path.

I recognize the Archangel Raphael, my older brother, even though I’m seeing him for the first time. A lot brighter and far more imposing than I am, he is radiant with power and spreads his wings gracefully.

"Castiel."

His voice sounds like seawater streaming down rocks. I look at him and wait for orders.

"You have been created to be part of the Garrison. Our Father commands you to observe the new form of life and to be ready to obey His orders."

"What new form of life?"

I look down at the vegetation covering the ground. I can feel several lifeforms in the surroundings. I am about to move in that direction, but the Archangel’s grip on my shoulder tightens to hold me still.

"Don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Father has great plans for that fish. That is the life form you need to observe."

He releases me and points at a tiny dot on the sand. Looking closer, I see a gray viscous fish crawling out of the water using its fins that seem to have mutated into some sort of ugly twisted legs.

So my mission is to observe this life form struggling to breathe air and walk on the ground. It doesn’t seem that much different from any other living things shifting all around us.

I look up. Raphael is gone now, but a dozen Angels are flying in my direction, lighting up the night sky like swarming stars. They land at my side in a concert of rustling feathers. I make sure none of the Angels squish the fish crawling between my claws.

One of them gazes at me from head to claws. His Grace spins and swirls around in his body.

"Castiel, I presume? I am Uriel. Like you, I am part of the Garrison. Michael explained everything to us."

Another Angel speaks up:

"My name is Anael and I am responsible for leading the Garrison. You will address with me or the Archangels for any precision about the orders."

I nod at my superior officer.

I watch attentively the Angels who will be my brothers in arms from now on as they introduce themselves one by one.

They are named Rachel, Ephra, Riemu, Yasen, Zedekiel, Camael, Siosp, Miz, Ecaop, Hcoma, Htmorda and Levanael. The Garrison is composed of fifteen Angels, including me. And none of us could be mistaken for one another. Our body and wings might look quite similar, with the exception of our eyes’ color, but every Grace shining inside is unique and inimitable.

Once the introductions are done, our General, Anael, gives us instructions. We must watch this species of fish and never influence its evolution unless we are directly told to.

Then, Anael looks down at the fish that crawled a meter further since my brothers arrived.

"Good. Now let’s follow orders and watch the species. Castiel, stay here and watch this one and its kin in the sector. The rest of you, spread out on Earth. Keep me all informed of your observations. I will be waiting for regular and thorough reports."

They all fly away immediately, and I end up alone, staring down at the tiny being crawling on the ground.

My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord, the instrument of His divine will.

And I have a mission to carry out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Poetry against weapons and violence. For some reason I think your little pets are not going to win this one, Castiel."_


	2. Leviathans

More fish have crawled out of the ocean, about a hundred of them, according to the daily reports of my brothers echoing through my skull. We all rigorously share our observations and comments.

They’re dragging themselves on the ground, learning how to breathe and move around in an environment that is not made for them. Does that steady determination bordering on stubbornness appeal to our Father?

In the wide zone that has been attributed to me, I watch over a few dozens fish living in a group that have moved further away from the ocean. Their life expectancy is short and their offspring often get eaten by predators.

They keep reproducing relentlessly and adapting to their environment a little better with each new generation. Gradually, they stopped struggling to breathe like they used to and their gills clogged permanently. Their legs are stronger now, their tail shorter, and all the scales fell off. I observe as their bodies change and their brains get bigger. Fewer predators attack them now that the group of fish is organized.

They established some kind of warning system where they take turns watching, and depending on the danger, they all run away or all attack the larger beast, outnumbering it. Rather ingenious, for animals.

Countless springs have gone by since the day I was assigned this mission in the Garrison, and my group of fish split into dozens of groups each made of about fifty mutant beings. There is something coming to life inside each one of them, a strange sort of faint light, weak, barely there.

_**A soul**__**. **__**Or at least, what is meant to become a soul some day**__**. **__**For now it **__**i**__**s only a draft**__**,**_ Anael’s voice whispers directly into my head when I ask him about it.

"What is a soul?"

_ **Michael said it is a creation of our Father that makes these creatures special and different from the others.** _

I’m not sure I understand and he doesn’t explain further. I keep quiet as my brothers in arms comment the event through the celestial channels. My mission is to observe, not to ask questions about God’s intentions.

I squint at two fish copulating to prepare the next generation, completing their frantic act with a squeaking noise.

* * *

We should find a new name for this living things that are evolving with slight differences depending on where they live on the planet. We can’t really consider them as _fish_ anymore. Scales have been replaced by hairy skin, gills are gone and ears are sticking out of their head, and their fins have mutated into long members that end with nimble fingers. The shape is similar to our arms, except that they have two instead of four. A nose and eyelids to close their eyes have also appeared. Their brain keeps growing and some of these new species are now above one meter high.

I am about to make this suggestion to Anael, when suddenly imperious voices explode inside my head. The Archangels are calling us, every soldier of the Garrison, without exception.

I spread my wings and fly off immediately.

I land in a chaotic battlefield surrounded by mountains covered in lush vegetation. Deafening screeches rise up to the sky.

There are large expanses of scorched earth in the shape of angels with spread wings on the ground. Meaning several of my brothers have perished already, and their dying Grace have branded the ground.

Something heavy crashes on my back and I almost fall down to the ground. My Grace forges my weapon instinctively and I grab it, flapping my wings to find my balance back. The foul breath of a creature brushed against the back of my head as I blindly try to chase it away with my blade.

"Castiel!" Riemu’s voice calls out behind me.

He manages to set me free and I whirl around. My brother just stabbed the creature with his blade, but it doesn’t seem to be effective. The oozing monster looks unharmed. Riemu suddenly disappears from my sight when two creatures bring him down, and before I have any chance of helping him, five more attack me at the same time.

In the confusion of the battle, I catch sight of Uriel fighting a dozen of these things. Even though they are barely half our size, they are ferocious and fearsome. Sleek black wings flap under the sun as they try to devour Angels with their oversized jaws, their claws trying to tear them apart. As for Anael, he is flying high in the sky, trying to get rid of a creature clinging to him.

I shout a battle cry and relentlessly slash open the monsters surrounding me with their wide open mouths, trying to swallow me alive. My entire left leg is engulfed inside the esophagus of one of them, and the world turns dark when another one swallows my head and tries to rip it off from my body. Blinded, hindered, and feeling raw pain tearing through my back, I decide to dive straight to the ground, hoping not to crash into one of my brothers.

The impact on the mountain is violent and painful, but it did shake off my assailants. I scramble back to my feet, turning my back on the mountain to prevent an attack from behind again. I brush a tract of land lined with a dozen trees off my shoulder with a flick of my hand.

Tightening my grip around my blade, I’m keeping them at a distance as they pile up together in front of me. How many are they? Maybe thousands. Except for the Garrison, I only see about a dozen of Angels fighting. Why are there so few of us? We'd have to kill hundreds each to overcome this!

Our weapons are useless. But we will fight until the end.

Orders are orders.

I hear Anael shouting something at Riemu just before he collapses to the ground, submerged by way too many enemies. I fly off right away to rescue him, but it’s too late. Blinding light bursts out of the swarming mass of monsters. Riemu’s Grace has been set ablaze and is fading now. There’s nothing left but an expense of burnt earth.

_**Riemu has been killed in action,**_ Anael’s voice resonates through my skull.

Rachel is in trouble too. Five creatures are attacking him and a wing has been ripped off his back. His Grace is bleeding out from the wound. Riemu is dead, but I can still save Rachel before he faces the same fate. I fly in his direction and shove my blade into a monster’s shell, cracking it. It doesn’t even seem to feel pain and spins around to face me, snapping its oversized jaw open to show the bottom of its stomach.

"Cut their head off!" the voice of the Archangel Gabriel thunders.

I obey and with a swift motion of my blade I behead the creature and set Rachel free, shielding him as he struggle to get on his feet, off balance because of his missing wing.

Every soldier in the Garrison obeys and in the distance I see Ephra perched on a mountain beheading three monsters at once with one single swift move.

Only now do I notice the seal drawn in blood drawn on a mountain's cliff, and a black hole widening in the air. A portal.

By my side, Uriel and Anael slice heads off with all their might, and the ground is littered with headless corpses. As I fight, I notice out of the corner of my eye that the four Archangels are standing near the seal, their hands joined together, chanting prayers.

Where did they find such a quantity of blood to draw the sigils?

My blade is sleek from the creatures’ dark blood and I’m covered in it too. Defending myself while protecting Rachel who can’t fly anymore is hard, and it appears that the enemy noticed our situation – they are now attacking us by packs of hundreds.

Suddenly, a blinding light bursts out from the seal and a powerful shock wave send me down to the ground with Rachel. When I open my eyes again, the monsters are gone and the seal snaps shut. The Archangel Lucifer shares a look with Michael before he raises his voice.

"Our Father has ordered us to lock away His latest creations, the Leviathans. They were a danger to His Work. It is done. You may return to your initial mission now."

Rachel bravely struggles to stand on his feet while the other Angels obey and fly away. He is leaning on me, which leaves me no other choice but to remain here instead of going back to my mission as ordered.

"Good job, Castiel," Anael nods at me approvingly, then flies off.

Raphael is striding across the devastated battlefield healing the wounded Angels one by one. He walks to us and brushes his hand against my brother’s skull. A brand new shining wing sprouts from his mutilated back.

Raphael looks satisfied as we spread our wings and fly away from the battlefield.

* * *

These new instructions are confusing, but I obey and make myself invisible to mortals.

Anael appears by my side and stares down at the creatures that have come to look like some kind of weird apes loosing their hairs. They’ve learned how to walk on their hind legs as if to imitate us, and their brain has grown bigger along with their soul glowing brighter. From up here, they seem so tiny and insignificant, but still we watch every detail of their evolution.

"I see you have a preference for these ones," Anael states.

It came as a surprise for all of us when the fish we had to watch evolved into several distinct species. Orders were clear: do not interfere, and do not take sides. Over millennia, with glaciations and migratory flows, only two species remained, and they have been coexisting for a while now, with varying degrees of success and even some cases of inter species breeding.

We have been informed that only one of these two species was to remain eventually. But we don’t know which one will survive and which one will go extinct.

"I think they are more likely to survive than the others."

"Why?" Anael’s voice sounds curious.

"They are taller, physically stronger, more imaginative and their souls shine more brightly."

Anael squints at them.

"I would rather bet on the others. They are less ugly, reproduce faster, they are more adventurous, demonstrate group solidarity and they know how to fight."

"You’re showing a lack of objectivity. My species has hair and eyes coming in many more colors. They have a talent for poetry and they bury their dead."

Anael gives me a weird look and stays silent for a while.

"Anyway, both these species have evolved to the point that we now have to hide from their eyes."

"Yes," I nod. "Raphael said that because of their soul, seeing or hearing us could harm them or even kill them."

This might make things difficult if we ever need to intervene. But I’m sure our Father will find a way.

A rustling of feathers. Uriel lands between us, looking impassive. All three of us stare down at the apes that lost almost all of their hairs.

Uriel’s voice rises in the silence.

"Poetry against weapons and violence. For some reason I think your little pets are not going to win this one, Castiel."

At our feet, two red-headed creatures are painting colorful patterns with great delicacy on their own skin. Their artistic talent to decorate their bodies with colors and feathers is fascinating. Anael replies before I can:

"At least we can be certain that one of the two species will survive. According to Gabriel, it’s for their safety that the Leviathans have been locked up, and dinosaurs eliminated."

"Indeed. Zachariah didn’t take it all too well, by the way," Uriel says ironically.

"We must not talk about this," I cut him short, and silence falls back.

It is unwise to mention our superior officer who has been sent to rehabilitation for having objected the order to destroy the dinosaur species he was in charge of.

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" I glance at Raphael out of the corner of my eye.

Further away, Anael, Rachel, Uriel, Ephra and the rest of the Garrison silently watch as the last specimens of my favorite species are being slaughtered by a group of the other species. We are flying high in the sky, and from up above, we can see the Reapers harvesting the souls one by one.

"It is. There can only be one species left, that we will call _Humans_. Those are the orders."

"Orders are orders," I nod sternly.

The extinction process has taken longer than I expected and it has become obvious my favorite species would be disappearing. But still, until this very moment I had been hoping that somehow the situation could change in their favor. For centuries I’ve observed their reproduction rate decline and diseases taking them away, while the physically weaker species progressively invaded their territory, wielding weapons and bringing along tamed wolves they trained to attack.

Uriel was right. My favorite ones might be stronger and smarter, but their pacifism is their weak point. They don’t know how to fight and they don’t _want_ to.

I will regret their poetry and their body paintings. Maybe God wants to create warriors instead of creatures that aspire to beauty?

Before our eyes, the last of their kind perishes at last. I look away, my Grace simmering with disappointment. Here starts the reign of Humans, and once again, the Garrison has only one species to watch over.

* * *

Uriel is standing silently at my left, and Anael looks tensed at my right. Two Human females are crying at our feet with tears streaming down their face. The entire Garrison is gathered behind us. I gaze up at the four Archangels, my older brothers, all radiating with light and power. Lucifer looks upset and deep in thought.

Each one of us is invisible to Humans’ eyes.

Fluffy feathers brush against my side, and I look at Anael.

"They won’t survive if this continues," he whispers in a low voice.

Blood splatters over the ground in front of the helpless Humans, and the skull of an infant appears. This isn’t the first time I witness a birth, but today it’s quite different, if the presence of the Archangels is anything to go by.

"Our orders are to not intervene," I snap at him.

Anael knows the orders and rules. As General of the Garrison, him of all Angels knows this. Yet he seems to take the Humans’ matters a bit too personally. Once the human children are born and taken away, I will inform Raphael of his delusion.

The Garrison’s mission is to observe and obey. Nothing more.

Anael narrows his green eyes.

"It would only take a snap of fingers from us for the mothers to give birth painlessly with no risk of dying. And we just stand here, watching idly."

I look sideways at him as a warning. If our older brothers hear him saying such things...

"The mothers don’t matter. Father’s only taken an interest in the two infants."

"You wouldn’t be so indifferent if _your_ favorite species had survived, Castiel."

I hear Uriel snicker. Everyone in the Garrison knew of my soft spot for the extinct species, and I fear they’ll nag me about this until the end of time.

I have been watching the Humans for centuries now. The cycle of their lives is quite repetitive: they eat, sleep, reproduce, die. But little by little they’ve developed language, leather and woolen garments, hunting and fishing skills, and though they haven’t reached the level of poetry of the extinct species, a sense of beauty and art growing in them. Even if in my opinion this frail, stupid and belligerent species should never have survived, I have come to term with it and watch over them in an impartial manner.

Humans have grown taller, their brain is bigger now, so is their soul. They have lost almost all of their hair and now Uriel keeps referring to them as « hairless apes ». For some reason, only the male ones are still growing hair on their face.

The other female Human screams in agony as the head of her infant slips out. I squint at the little girl the Humans are trying to pull out of her mother’s body. Not far, the baby boy is already out and screaming in the arms of his exhausted mother.

Cherubs have been created about a thousand years ago and have been working hard for the last centuries to influence the Humans’ sexual preferences to make this happen on the same day and the same hour. It’s the first time God gives them a priority mission. To make a male and a female destined to mate once they come of age.

Adam and Eve.

For what purpose? I don’t know.

It seems like our Father has plans of crucial importance for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"You would kill your own brother for these hairless apes?"_


	3. The original sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Castiel is a soldier in the Garrison. Under Anael’s orders, he watches over Humanity and observes its evolution. Leviathans have been locked away, Neanderthals have gone extinct, and Adam and Eve are born.

The Garden of Eden gathers all the splendor of Father's creation. The most luxurious plants, the most graceful and lively animals, and of course the two chosen Humans the Archangels brought here soon after they were born.

Within the Garden, mortals don't suffer, age or have any kind of physical need. In its center Father grew the Tree of Knowledge whose apples can widen the human or animal mind, and the Tree of Eternal Life. Adam and Eve are not allowed to touch them for the moment. I heard that God plans to give them the fruits as a reward once they have proven their faith, love and obedience.

Naked as the day she was born, young Eve is drawing rudimentary art in the loose soil with the tip of a stick. A few steps away, brown hair all tangled up, Adam is scurrying after a bright-colored butterfly. I watch them from a distance. We don't need to hide ourselves from their eyes. They have been seeing us without fear since the day they were born, with some kind of naive curiosity. It is known that Humans can't see or hear us without breaking, but these two are the exception.

"I don’t get it."

I don't need to turn around to guess that Uriel just landed behind me to watch the two young Humans cut off from the rest of their species. And there is no need to say anything back. I have no answer to give him, and like some other Angels, Uriel just feels the need to voice his confusion.

I am confused too, but it is ill-advised to ask too many questions.

"Why does God talk to _them_? What is it that these two hairless monkeys have and we don't? They are tiny, weak, ugly, stupid, they have only two hands and no wings."

"Father chose them, and He never does anything without a reason."

No Angel ignores that God came in person to talk to the two Humans, not once but several times, and He didn’t let Angels or even Archangels go with Him. Rumors are spreading, but Uriel is one of the few Angels who dare say it out loud.

The little girl giggles happily, drops her stick and chases after Adam, her golden hair floating behind her back. Uriel’s eyes follow her gloomily.

"I think we should start chasing butterflies and making pretty drawings too. Maybe then He would take an interest in us, don’t you think, Castiel?"

I give him a wary look.

Our own General is being closely watched by Raphael since I reported his behavior, and now Uriel is bordering on disobedience too. Do I need to call the entire Garrison to order?

"We are not supposed to be drawing or chasing butterflies, Uriel. Our orders are–"

"Yes, yes. I know. To observe and obey. I was joking, Castiel."

"Oh."

* * *

We are all gathered in the Garden of Eden. All of us. The Garrison, the other divisions of Angels, Cherubs of first and second class, and lower grades too. Gabriel, Lucifer, Raphael and Michael are standing in a circle around the two chosen Humans who have now reached adult size. Compared to us, they look as tiny and fragile as insects.

Our presence lights up the Garden, washing away every shadow around.

Rachel, Yasen and Hcoma glance at me in confusion, but I don’t know what’s happening any more than they do.

Michael’s voice rises up, rolling like thunder on a summer night, and we listen.

"God created Humans in His image and breathed in their souls His very own essence and _free will_. He orders us to bow down before Adam and Eve. And from now on, to love Humans more than we love our Father."

A murmur runs through the crowd when Michael, to set the example, bows down before the two tiny Humans who are holding hands and staring up at him unblinkingly.

Gabriel kneels too, followed by Raphael who obeys with some sort of reluctance in his stiffened Grace.

I don’t understand what is the point in bowing before the evolution of the fish I have been watching for millions of years, but orders are orders. My role is not to think, but to obey orders without discussion. Anael and Rachel are kneeling already and I do the same. Uriel hesitates for a split second before he follows the movement.

"This is ridiculous."

All eyes turn towards Lucifer who is still standing, his Grace writhing in rage. He is towering over the Humans and glaring down at them with ice in his three eyes.

"Love those apes more than I love Father? I can’t. I will _never_ love them!"

"Lucifer!" Michael hisses.

"And all of you agree with this? Am I the only one to _truly_ love our Father here? Are you all willing to love those flawed, murderous and ignorant beings more than Him?"

Only silence meets his words.

I notice a second-class Cherub’s wings twitch in front of me like he’s itching to reply. But he remains silent and very still, his head lowered.

"Don’t count on me, Father!" Lucifer screams up to the sky.

Raphael spreads one of his wings in front of Adam and Eve like a giant shield to protect them.

Michael rises to his feet, radiating with a threatening aura.

"Lucifer, bow before the Humans! You know the fate of those who rebel."

Lucifer lets out a broken laugh.

"Do you want to eliminate me, Michael? You would kill your own _brother_ for those hairless apes?"

"Those are the orders, Lucifer."

An explosion of light throws all of us backwards and I snap my wings open to rise above my brothers in arms. From up here, I see Michael scrambling back to his feet while Lucifer is walking towards the two Humans Raphael is protecting.

All of my brothers are watching it happen, standing still and silent, waiting for an order to come.

"Move aside, Raphael."

The Archangel unfolds his other wing to shield Adam and Eve.

"Don’t make me hurt you," Lucifer murmurs with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Lucifer! Stop this madness, brother, please! Repent now, Father will forgive you!" shouts Gabriel who had stayed away from the fight until now.

Lucifer holds out his hand to Raphael.

"Father has not been thinking straight since He created those abominations. Once we get rid of them everything will get back to normal. Raphael, join me, or perish with them."

A sudden flash of light blinds me and I shut my eyes, shielding my face with my arms. A scream makes my Grace run cold.

When I open my eyes again, there is a bottomless pit in the ground at Michael’s feet, already shrinking until it disappears altogether. Lucifer is gone, and Raphael is on his knees whimpering in pain with his wings on fire. Gabriel rushes to his side to heal him.

Unharmed, Adam and Eve are stepping back, holding hands and looking frightened.

I'm landing in the middle of the Garrison.

"Where is Lucifer...?" Ephra whispers, eyes wide open.

"Locked away, like the Leviathans."

Until now, all Angels showing sings of doubt or refusing to obey a direct order have always been executed or sent to rehabilitation.

I don’t know if Lucifer is too powerful to be eliminated or if Michael and Father couldn’t bring themselves to kill him.

* * *

Since the last events occurred, I went back to watch over the other Humans who have moved on and forgotten all about Adam and Eve’s very existence. I made sure of it. I have been informed that their parents looking for them everywhere was an inconvenience.

The soul of Eve’s mother is bright and pure. And peaceful, now that she has forgotten about having a daughter. Even from up here I can see it glowing softly. All wrapped up in her clothes made of sheepskin, she is washing some fabric dyed in blue into the stream. She keeps singing the same wistful tune over and over in her crystal-clear voice.

She will never know she has a grown up daughter, chosen by God.

A ray of sunlight caresses her blond hair. A breeze makes the leaves shiver around my claws.

I can no longer observe the Humans with an indifferent eye now that I know Father made them in His image. Which means my brothers and I do not look like God. And that these Humans are now the most accurate representation of my Father I could ever imagine.

Does He not have wings? Does He only have two hands, two eyes, and such a frail body? Soft skin, flesh and blood? A nose, eyebrows and long hair on the top of His head?

I raise my four arms before my eyes and unfold my fingers. I have no skin, no flesh, no organs, no blood like Humans do. Only a solid and translucent frame, like bones made of glass _inside which _my Grace flows like liquid light fizzling with blue bubbles. Should I receive any injury, only my Grace would bleed out of me.

Knowing that my brothers and I look nothing like our Father carves a void inside me.

"Castiel."

Uriel appears at my side.

We haven’t seen each other since Lucifer has fallen. He has been tasked with watching the Garden of Eden and the two chosen Humans. For him to fly all the way here, it has to be important.

After Lucifer’s punishment, Anael grew way too close to the two Humans and Raphael sent him in rehabilitation a few months ago. I was not surprised. I knew it would happen.

In his absence, I carry out his functions.

"Adam and Eve are behaving in an unusual way."

I look away from the singing woman and make eye contact with my brother. For once, he looks serious and shows no sign of sarcasm and teasing.

"In an unusual way?"

"When I appeared to her, Eve startled and tried to hide her genitals and breast. And she was sewing clothes with fig leaves for Adam and her."

Now this can’t be good. Surrounded by animals, Angels and vegetation, how could they develop the concept of modesty? And above all, where did Eve learn how to sew?

"We need to inform Raphael."

Uriel shakes his head, looking reluctant.

"Why bother Raphael just for this? Can’t we fix this problem ourselves? Our big brother doesn’t exactly enjoy being called for no reason lately..."

Uriel does have a point.

"Fair enough. Let’s see the situation and we will call on Raphael if we really have to."

The moment we reach the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, wearing their clothes made of leaves look up at us in fright. They have been seeing us all the time since the second they were born. Why are they afraid of us all of a sudden?

And then, for the very first time, I speak to the mortals I have been watching evolve since the beginning.

"Adam, Eve. Why is there fear in your eyes?"

The two Humans take a slow step back and Adam wraps his arms around Eve as if to protect her.

"Why are you hiding the body God gave you?" Uriel asks in a thundering voice.

Adam swallows hard and Eve bits her lower lip before looking up warily.

"The fog hindering our mind dissipated. Everything is so clear now. We know that we are prisoners here and that our entire life is but a lie!"

"There are more Humans out there and we don’t want to live ignorant like animals anymore," Adam says with defiance in his eyes.

Oh. This is much more than just a modesty issue.

_**"Raphael,"**_ I call out, directing my prayer to the Archangel.

He will know what to do.

With a rustling of wings Raphael appears at our side, eyes blazing with wrath. Apparently he heard what the Humans have just said.

"Who told you this?" he utters, and his harsh voice petrifies the mortals with fear.

A tear rolls down Eve’s face.

"An Angel. He revealed the truth to us. We were taken from our parents at birth and raised naked like beasts just to please God. And.. And we..."

"And we can’t leave nor disobey Him, we can’t choose our own life without Him eliminating us," Adam finishes for her through gritted teeth.

"So this is true? He was telling the truth?" Eve chokes between her sobs.

Raphael lets her question unanswered.

"Which Angel?" Uriel asks.

"That would be me," says a voice behind us.

We turn around to face a second-class Cherub. Even though he is much smaller and less powerful, his three yellow eyes look down on us with a gaze of superiority.

"Azazel," Raphael narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Because Lucifer was right. God wants us to bow down before these mortals. He likes to think that they _chose_ to love Him. So I showed Him free will for what it really is. A delusion. Faced with a real choice, Humans will always pick the wrong path."

There is a dark satisfaction gleaming in the Cherub’s eyes.

"All I did was reveal the truth to them and offer them a choice. The choice Father couldn’t bring Himself to subject them to. Blindly have faith in Him, or eat a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge to finally be able to understand His plans."

Raphael stiffens when Azazel starts laughing. I glance at the Archangel, waiting for his orders. Azazel spreads his arms provocatively.

"Well, Raphael, what are you waiting for? Be a good dog and smite me! Smite me like Michael smote his own brother! But be forewarned, I am not the only one who thinks that way! Do you think you are ready to kill every single one of your brothers, one by one, in the name of these pathetic apes?"

Before the Archangel even gets to smite the rebellious Cherub, a thunderbolt of pure light radiating with divine wrath tears the sky open and strikes down on Azazel. Blinded, I narrow my eyes and hear him screaming in agony. His wings burst into flames, turning black and tarnishing while his Grace seems to boil. I catch sight of his yellow eyes flashing just before he crumbles into dark smoke whirling up before it dives into the ground and disappears.

Then, without a sound, the entire vegetation of the Garden of Eden wither in a few seconds and the animals fall dead to the ground. The sky darkens with stormy clouds. A torrential rain falls down and thunder makes the earth tremble. Adam and Eve are on their knees, in each other’s arms, tears and rain streaming down their faces.

Raphael looks down at them.

"You have committed the original sin, Humans. You doubted God. And for this, you are expelled from the Garden of Eden. Eve, you will give birth in sweat and blood and mourn your children when they die. Adam, you will have to work the land to feed and kill to survive. You will live in pain and sorrow and go back to soil when you die."

With these dismal words, the Archangel disappears.

Uriel folds his arms and and comments sneeringly:

"You wanted freedom? There you have it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Gabriel, does God really look like Humans?"_


	4. Cain and Abel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** All Angels have been ordered by God to bow to Adam and Eve and to love Humans above everything else. Lucifer refuses to do so, and is cast away as punishment. A Cherub named Azazel reveals the truth to Adam and Eve about their birth, resulting in them doubting God and being chased out of the Garden of Eden.

Night fell. Adam and Eve are long gone, left me alone to gaze at the dead lands that once were the Garden of Eden. The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life vanished into thin air.

There is a muted energy throbbing throughout all Creation. My brothers are whispering into my head. Something essential is happening, I can feel it like they do.

Stormy clouds are gathering up in the sky. The energy intensifies, and all of a sudden everything is drowned in pure divine light.

When I open my eyes again, I am no longer standing on the moor littered with dead animals. I am now in the Garden of Eden just like it was a few hours ago, and the two Trees are intact. And still, I can sense deep inside of me that I am not on Earth. I am surrounded by my brothers from the Garrison. Even Anael is here, and it seems like the rehabilitation was a success: his eyes are cold. These are the eyes of a warrior, of a strategist.

All Angels, Archangels and Cherubs are here. The Garden of Eden is crowded with Angels as far as the eye can see, around a million of them at the very least.

"I welcome you, brothers," says a voice as soft as the grass on the high plains. "I am Joshua, the messenger of God. You have been gathered here to be informed about a few changes you probably noticed."

He takes in the army of God's soldiers.

"We are currently inside the Paradise that will from now on be our rallying point. This is where you will all submit your reports, receive orders and attend meetings. Except for the Garrison and the Animal division whose mission is directly linked down there, you will no longer walk the Earth and be around Humans without an authorization from your direct supervisor and prior approval of Gabriel, Raphael or Michael. The Creation has been divided in three main dimensions. Earth and its mortals where we shall never and under any circumstances intervene unless otherwise ordered. Paradise where you will find your offices, meeting and training rooms, and where the souls of virtuous Humans will rise, but I will explain this point later. And Hell where the souls of the Humans who sinned will be _appropriately_ dealt with. God entrusted our former brother Azazel to manage the place. Now I would like you all to join me on a guided tour, if you please. Any question you might have will be answered at the end."

Joshua snaps his fingers, and we end up in a white corridor that manages to contain us all by some kind of distortion effect of the walls. There are doors with the name of departments written on them as far as I can see.

"Here is where your offices are situated. On my left, the office of the Garrison. It will probably be empty most of the time, but you only will need it to write down your reports. On my right, the studies department for souls, headed by Michael. Do not be alarmed when you see Reapers in the corridors, you will have to get used to be around them. I won’t show you every single office here, you will find your own quite easily. Low ranked Cherubs, the Love office is all the way down on the right. Let’s move on!"

He snaps his fingers again and we are now standing in front of a single door with no sign on it.

"Those who disobey will be disciplined and brought back to the right path in here. Some of you already know what rehabilitation consists of..."

Anael and Zachariah stiffen.

"God is great and merciful, He gives us one chance to repent if we fail Him. But I strongly suggest you never do anything to find out what is behind that door."

Snap of fingers.

We appear in a huge library immersed in deep silence. Countless rows of shelves stretch in the distance and disappear in a golden mist. When I look up, I am unable to tell how high they rise either. I reach out and brush a finger against the spine of a leather-bound book. Its title is carved in golden Enochian sigils. Something about the souls’ energy.

"This is the library, you can consult freely. God entrusted it to the Sisters of Fate."

Snap of fingers.

Everything turns black and we have no choice but to snap our wings open so we won’t fall into the void surrounding us. Down there, a translucent bridge stretching into nothingness. We all land on it, puzzled.

"And this area holds the Paradise for Humans. Admittedly it is a bit empty for now since we only just inaugurated, but soon it will be multifaceted and endless. Every human soul will generate its own eternal bliss, separated from the others with the exception of soulmates. In the next following days, some of you will be chosen to manage these human Paradises and you will be summoned to attend an intensive training with Michael."

Joshua stares at us unblinkingly and tilts his head.

"Any question?"

* * *

It is strictly forbidden for us to appear before Adam and Eve's eyes. We never reply to their prayers, however poignant they may be. Nevertheless, there is always a soldier from the Garrison on guard near them, invisible, who has to report back everything they do and say to Anael afterwards. We don't see Anael that much lately, he is busy with interdivisional meetings, statistics and reports he has to write down, among other tedious tasks that became mandatory since Paradise was created.

Eve looks exhausted but she smiles through her tears as she holds in her arms her second child still sticky with blood. Adam is trying to clean the infant with a wet cloth, but she stubbornly refuses to let go. I watch through the walls of their house as Eve sobs softly and kisses her second son's forehead. The boy is blotched red and screaming at the top of his lungs.

There is a pool of blood growing wider between Eve's thighs, pouring from a gaping rip in her flesh between her legs. The skin ruptured when the child came out. Cain's birth had been a less painstaking process.

"God, Father of All, please hear my prayer... I implore You to love my son Abel as much as You love Cain. Angels of the Lord, please watch over my children, I beg of you... Do not punish them for our sin, they are innocent..."

The skin of her belly sags and her hair lost its shine through the years. Mortals deteriorate so quickly.

From up here, I can see the four years old boy, Cain, the eldest son, standing on tiptoe to take a look inside through the window. His eyes are bright with emotion and curiosity.

_**"Adam and Eve have a second son. His name is Abel,"**_ I say out loud to all my brothers.

_**You know the procedure, Castiel,**_ the General's voice replies in my head. _**Just saying it is no longer sufficient, you need to come up here to write down your report and address this point in the next meeting.**_

I suppress a groan. Things were so much easier before.

* * *

The lamb bleats in Abel's arms and buries its head under his armpit. The young Human, still barely a boy himself, is petting the animal. A tear rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away discreetly.

Standing by his side, Cain holds in his arms a braided basket full of ripe fruits, golden wheat and freshly baked loaves of bread.

Invisible, I watch them in silence with my wings carefully folded back.

Adam and Eve might have lost Father’s favor, but their children have not. Without talking to them Himself, God sends His Archangels to test their faith and love. Are Humans truly able to love the Lord if they have never seen Him? Could Cain and Abel make up for their parents’ sin?

Gabriel demanded a sacrifice to prove their faith and blind obedience.

Making himself visible to their eyes, the Archangel is towering over the Humans, radiating with light and power.

"Farewell, my friend," Abel whispers to the lamb as he kneels on the ground, tightening his grip on the knife. Sensing the shepherd’s distress, the animal struggles in his arms and bleats, trying to get free. Blood splatters over the sobbing young Human’s tunic as he holds the dying animal tightly until the end.

It’s Cain’s turn to kneel before Gabriel. He gingerly puts his basket on the ground.

Gabriel draws his wings behind his back and stoops over Abel. As an Archangel, he is much taller than I am and to mortals’ eyes he must look gigantic. Trees barely reach his feet.

"God acknowledges your pain and appreciates your sacrifice, Abel." Gabriel grazes the young Human with the tip of a finger. Abel nods with a smile halfway between sad and happy.

Then Gabriel straightens and points an accusing finger at Cain.

"You on the other hand, Cain, bear no sorrow in your heart. You didn’t sacrifice anything you hold dear."

Cain looks up with wide eyes. But Gabriel lets him no chance to reply and makes himself invisible to human eyes. The Archangel quits his mighty posture, wings slouching behind his back with a soft rustling sound. The change is so immediate and startling that I dare approaching my older brother. Was Cain’s offering that bad?

"Is there a problem, Gabriel?"

The Archangel’s eyes are shut when he replies.

"Tormenting virtuous Humans. So boring."

I glance down at Cain who is picking up his basket, looking utterly dejected.

"I think the offering to be quite nice to look at, though. Those colors, the artistic arrangement..."

Gabriel opens his eyes again and gaze up to the sky, still not sparing me a glance.

"The presentation hardly matters. The sacrifice needed to be a real heartbreak for them. They could have offered a grain of sand as long as they cared enough about it to suffer from its loss. Cain messed up that one. But of course, it would’ve been be way too easy if we explained the rules of the game beforehand, am I right?"

I don’t answer, and the Archangel keeps on ranting like he has forgotten he’s not alone.

"Michael is moping around and obsessing over souls, Raph is insufferable since Luci’s been locked in the cage, so guess who’s gotta do all the dirty work? Me!"

This isn’t how I imagined Gabriel would be. He is not like Raphael. More dramatic, more lively.

I stare at him unblinkingly and the question I have been repressing deep in the back of my mind for years surges out of me:

"Gabriel, does God really look like Humans?"

He freezes and looks down at me as if he just became aware of my presence.

"You’re a soldier from the Garrison, aren’t you?"

"Yes. My name is Castiel."

"Well. Castiel. Try to avoid this kind of question from now on, bro."

He gives a fond pat on my shoulder with his wing before he flies away, leaving me alone and confused.

I suppose I will never get an answer to my question.

At my feet, Abel is stroking the dead lamb’s head in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"I will never forgive you."_


	5. Eve's tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** After Lucifer has been cast away and Adam and Eve chased out of the Garden of Eden, Heaven is being reorganized with new rules. Gabriel asks Cain and Abel for offerings to God, but only Abel’s is sufficient. The Archangel also advices Castiel not to ask questions about God.

I have been watching a Human making a weapon for a few hours when Anael’s voice commands me to come immediately. I fly away as fast as I can and find him in a wheat field a couple of seconds later.

I look at him, waiting for orders, and he gestures at the ground impatiently.

Down there, Cain is striding through the field with his younger brother at his heels. There is something unusual about his attitude. All it takes is a glance at his soul to figure out anger and blood lust are fueling him. He’s holding a sharpened stone in his hand.

"Cain is about to commit fratricide," says Anael with a worried edge in his voice.

"Then we have to warn Gabriel or Raphael."

He shakes his head, his Grace brewing with frustration.

"The Garrison needs to wait for permission to intervene."

Uriel and Siosp land next to me, and Uriel holds out a stone tablet to Anael.

"We carved our Grace’s signature onto the application form."

Anael nods and takes the tablet only to shove it in my hands.

"Sign. Quickly. We can’t transmit our request to the hierarchy without this form signed by at least three of my subordinates."

I obey and put a hand over the tablet to carve my signature in the stone with my Grace. Anael snatches it back and flies off with a rustling of feathers. I look at my brothers in arms in confusion.

"It’s the new procedure," Siosp explains. "We can no longer contact Archangels directly. A council has to consider our request and decide whether or not it falls within the ambit of God’s Plan, Destiny or free will, and then only an Archangel will be informed."

As we speak, down on the ground, Cain comes to a grind halt in the middle of the field whose golden wheat waves under the soft breeze.

"Cain, what did you want to show me?"

Cain turns to his brother and grabs his shoulder in a firm grip, probably to prevent him from escaping.

"You always were the favorite, Abel... Our parents, the Angels and God all like you better."

This is not true.

I have no preference for any of them, and I’m quite certain my brothers in the Garrison don’t care either.

Abel stills when his brother raises his hand holding the sharp stone his tunic had been hiding until now.

"And you are my favorite too, little brother... So God wants me to sacrifice the dearest thing in the world to me? This is you, Abel. I have to sacrifice you."

"Hairless apes and logic..."

I stay silent but can’t help stiffening at Uriel using that derogatory term. If God really made them in His image, then this is close to blasphemy.

Abel puts his hand on his brother’s. Unlike Cain, his soul is calm.

"If God wants me dead, I can only accept my fate. If you are wrong, I know He will stop your hand. Go on, strike, I have no fear," Abel says as he closes his eyes.

"… Yeah well, that’s only if our hierarchy grants us permission to intervene," Uriel comments, smoothing down his feathers.

"Uriel..." I say as a warning.

"We have the power to disintegrate that arrogant monkey before he commits fratricide, but we just stand around idle for administrative reasons. Come on, Castiel, you’ve got to admit it’s kind of funny, isn’t it?"

Cain’s face is contorted when he lifts his arm, tightening his grasp on the stone, and hits his brother’s head so hard I can hear the skull splitting open. Blood is soaking his hair and streaming down his face, Abel stumbles back, raising his arms in an attempt to protect himself. Probably instinct. Cain grabs his brother’s tunic made of sheepskin and hits again, and again, and again. The blows he strikes are messy, not very effective. He strikes the skull at different spots, which prolongs the agony for Abel who yells in pain. Blood splatters the arms and grimacing face of his elder brother. The skull breaks at last and the sharp edge of the stone rams into the bloodied brain.

The young Human’s body collapses, and earth greedily absorbs his blood.

We remain silent as Cain starts sobbing and laughing hysterically at the same time. Abel’s soul, pure and bright, rises from his lifeless body. A Reaper appears and takes it away.

I can’t help thinking that if the other human species that went extinct had survived, this would never have happened at all.

* * *

So this is what it looks like. Given the fact that I have not been summoned for the extensive training, this is the first time I get to visit a human Paradise. It looks like Earth. I have to admit, I am a bit disappointed. Joshua said Humans generate their own happiness, though. Could it be that Abel’s happiness is only just an echo of his life? If his mind is able to create a whole new kind of happiness with no limits but his imagination, why would he live the same thing again?

Abel’s eyes are shut and he’s starting to doze off, his head resting on Eve’s knees. She is stroking his dark hair while humming a song. In his Paradise, he’s a child again. Cain is here too, helping Adam to start the fire in the hearth, his hair glowing in the warm light. His presence is surprising. Why would Abel wish to be close to his murderer in Paradise for all eternity?

**_The Garrison is summoned for a crisis meeting, room 3609, immediately,_** the voice echoes through my head.

I spread my wings and leave Abel’s tiny Paradise.

* * *

"I suggest that one of my soldiers turns back in time to stop Cain’s arm before he spills blood," Anael declares right at the beginning of the meeting.

"Abel’s death was written, I checked myself with the Sisters of Fate. Destiny cannot be changed, Anael," objects Raphael who presides over the meeting.

"It could have been if only we had been allowed to act. A single snap of fingers from our part would have saved Abel. That bloated bureaucracy is ridiculing the Garrison! What are we here for exactly? What is even the purpose of our mission?"

On this point, all my brothers nod in agreement.

"Humans don’t wait for us to consult our hierarchy to commit errors," I say to support our General.

Raphael’s sharp gaze turns to me.

"Are you questioning authority, Castiel?"

My eyes widen. I can’t believe anyone would dare accuse me of such blasphemy.

"Of course not!"

"What Cas means is, we would be much more efficient if we could bypass paperwork in case of emergency," Uriel shrugs.

I look at Uriel in confusion.

Who is he talking about? Who is _ Cas _?

It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s a shortened version of my name.

Raphael stares at us with narrowed eyes.

"You should know that paperwork, as you say, is essential for Heaven’s organization. It would be chaos otherwise. We are about a million soldiers under the orders of God, and that requires coordination. All you have to do is fulfill your mission and follow procedure, nothing else matters. Do not forget, your mission is not to _save_ Humans, but only to observe them and wait for orders. I should all send you to rehabilitation to remind you of your place, like I did to Anael!"

"Uriel and Castiel are not saying we should suppress the organization that is of course essential," says Camael, the Angel of Joy, "they’re only suggesting being able to ask an Archangel directly for advice in an unusual situation. Of course, additional reports and forms will be filled retrospectively to justify the decision taken by our superior officer."

Raphael calms down and seems to consider the proposal. Camael winks at me, his Grace swirling playfully inside his body.

"Great. Avoid paperwork by adding more paperwork... Remind me, is he the Angel of Joy or the Angel of Masochism?" Uriel whispers to me.

"Of Joy, Uriel."

* * *

Kneeling on the soggy ground, Eve lays white flowers on Abel’s grave. From where I am standing, I can’t see her face, her ash blond hair is veiling it. Her shoulders are trembling as she cries silently with no care for the pouring rain hitting her back.

Since Abel passed away, Eve comes every day to mourn at his graveside. She has stopped praying to God and Angels. As for Adam, he remains prostrate with grief in his silent house all day long. And Cain...

Hands covered with his brother’s blood, Cain departed these lands never to return. He is currently heading North under Camael’s close surveillance who has become his designated Guardian Angel.

"You took my sons from me..." Eve murmurs. She’s talking to us like she used to. But this is not a prayer. She snaps her face up to the sky, her gaze sharpening right at me. I know she cannot see me, though. Rain and tears are streaming down her face, and her soaking wet hair is slithering on her neck and shoulders like dark honey.

"I will never forgive you."

Her blue eyes are filled with ice-cold rage. Her soul is still as pure and bright as the day she was born, but tormented. I see despair. Hatred. And one last glimmer of hope… one last single hope that we will bring back her children to her. A silent supplication.

I wish I could appease her mind by telling her Abel is waiting for her in Paradise, and that after she dies her sorrows will be over and she will find peace, eternal happiness and forgiveness. But orders are orders, so I stay silent and watch as she steps away from the grave to go back home. I station myself near her house, my eyes seeing through the roof. Adam is sitting before the dying embers of the fire in the hearth. His head is lowered and he is motionless.

I sense something is not right and I can’t rationalize this strange impression. Eve walks in and wearily closes the door behind her.

"Hello, Eve," says Adam with a voice that doesn’t quite sound like his own. When he looks up at Eve, I catch glimpse of a monstrous face with yellow eyes. Adam’s soul is inside his body, but there is some kind of dark fog wrapped around it.

_ Azazel _.

He’s holding a knife, and his other hand is dripping with blood. Eve stands frozen as Azazel rises to his feet. I can sense her fear.

Does he intend to harm Eve using Adam’s body?

I act like a soldier and plunge my hand toward the house in order to neutralize the enemy first and then give the alarm. Azazel slams his bloodied hand against the wall where a sigil has been drawn with blood.

"Oh no no no, my dear Castiel... You are not invited. Be a good dog and go play outside!"

Before I can reach him, I feel my Grace being set ablaze inside my body. Sounds are dissolving, everything is blurring.

I feel my wings spreading wide.

Then everything goes black.

* * *

Screaming.

I hear Humans screaming.

I crack my eyes open. My vision is blurred and the world is spinning around me. I am lying on the ground and my wings are widely spread, casting a huge shadow over the screaming Humans who are trying to cover their eyes.

My body is radiating light on the human habitations made of stone and clay.

Disoriented, I find myself scrambling to my feet, stumbling once or twice before I manage to stand up with my claws digging into the ground. I feel heavy and slow.

"Anael..." I say in a whisper to give the alarm. We need to stop Azazel at all cost and inform the Archangels.

At the sound of my voice, the screams become even louder, and I remember that ordinary Humans can’t see me or hear my voice without dying or being severely hurt. They are now writhing in pain, their hands clasped on their ears.

"Anael!" I call louder. Didn’t he hear me?

I can’t stay here. This area is swarming with Humans. Not only I am unable to turn invisible to mortal eyes, but also I can no longer locate my position on Earth. Where am I?

I need to go back to Eve.

I try to fly, but my wings are paralyzed. I can’t even move them or fold them back. Did Azazel’s seal deprive me of my abilities? Did I become useless and powerless forever, unable to fulfill my mission?

"ANAEL!" I scream my voice raw, blasting a few souls out of their bodies.

I feel dizzy. I stagger, moving my foot to find my balance back. Which makes me unintentionally crush to the ground a few dozens Humans.

_Don’t step on that fish_ _, Castiel..._

I need to get away from human sight to work things out and think about what the procedure would be for such an unusual situation. I focus and try again to move my numb wings. After several unsuccessful attempts I finally manage to flap them sluggishly, but with enough force to bend all trees around and destroy the houses’ brittle rooftops. I arduously rise up to the sky. The searing pain is tearing my wings apart and I nearly fall a couple of times.

From up here, I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of a city whose center is now devastated and swarming with wandering souls. With a few wing beats I fly away from any human activity, and when the pain gets unbearable I hover in the air to begin my descent.

After a rough landing I stay prostrated for a while to let my wings rest, spread out to the ground. I must be far away from Adam and Eve’s home. There is no rain here and the earth is dry.

My vision is starting to clear, and even if I still feel disorientated and dizzy, I am quite certain this condition is not permanent. I look down at my hands. Usually so fluid and bright, my Grace is like congealed inside my bones. It barely moves and looks gelatinous, almost solid.

"ANAEL!" I shout again, now that no Human will suffer from hearing my voice.

No answer.

I can’t even hear the voices of my brothers that have been a constant humming inside my head since the day I was created and given my mission. This silence is oppressive. For the first time in my existence, I am _alone_.

"RAPHAEL!" I scream myself hoarse, hoping that maybe the Archangel will hear my call.

Silence.

Is Azazel killing Adam and Eve? Does he intend to harm Cain too? I have no way of warning Camael, Anael, or any of my brothers.

All I can do is wait in silence, seething with helpless rage, eyes riveted to my frozen Grace.

I listen to the trees rustling and watch shadows moving with the sun in the sky. A few birds come flying and perch on my fingers to stare at me with curiosity, head tilted. I tilt my head too and stare back. My Father’s creations are fascinating.

Time passes. The sun ends its path through the sky and plunges into the horizon when my Grace starts boiling and flowing freely inside my body, as bright as before. The low humming of my brothers’ voices rushes into my head again, sharing information and notices of meetings.

I rise to my feet, the sudden move scaring away hundreds of birds perched on me, and I fly to the sky, screaming Anael’s name to give the alarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"I vouch for Castiel completely. I know him to be incapable of lying and deceiving. I am willing to share his punishment if it turns out that I am wrong."_


	6. The trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Castiel is assigned to watch over Adam and Eve after Cain murdered Abel and was banished. When he finds out Azazel is possessing Adam, he tries to attack, but Azazel uses a sigil to send him away. Castiel wakes up far away, cut off from his siblings’ voices and unable to fly or call for help. After hours waiting, at last his Grace starts flowing again and he can alert the Garrison.

Being cast aside while my brothers are probably fighting is the worst kind of frustration I have ever experienced.

Even worse is knowing that I am suspected of treason.

I had only just given the alarm when Raphael intercepted me before I had the chance to reach the battlefield. I am innocent. I have no idea what Azazel did to me, but I was physically unable to fulfill my surveillance mission and alert Anael. I didn't intentionally neglect my duty. No matter how I protested my innocence, Raphael didn't listen.

I look up, gazing into the pure white light surrounding me. The silence is overwhelming. Any rustling of feathers would sound like a hurricane in here.

I find myself, once again, cut out from celestial voices and unable to move. I had never quite realized how much the constant humming of my brothers' voices inside my head is comforting. This absolute silence is making me very uncomfortable. My wings are folded behind my back and I have not moved at all for days, not wanting the ring of holy fire to touch me. All it would take is a single one of my feathers touching the flames for me to die. This is what the Archangel said before he left me here alone.

I had never seen this zone of the Paradise. I guess its purpose is to isolate rogue Angels before they are given proper punishment. Or am I to stay alone in here for all eternity?

The ground is made of marble tiles and there are golden columns rising up into the light as far as I can see.

The sound of feathers rustling makes me look down again. Raphael is back, and he isn't alone.

"Camael?" I whisper in confusion.

My brother from the Garrison looks utterly dejected, head down. He stands still while the Archangel draws a circle around him with holy oil and then sets it aflame before he leaves us without a single word.

Camael tightens his wings behind his back and stares gloomily at the holy fire burning.

"Cain is dead," he says at last, answering my silent question.

This confirms my worries that Azazel would attack Adam and Eve's last son.

"He burst into flames screaming before my eyes. For no apparent reason. I couldn’t do anything. In a matter of seconds, he was but a pile of ashes on the ground."

He grabs his head between his four hands with some weird kind of whimper, as if he were in pain. There is no wound anywhere on his body, though. His Grace is undamaged, even if it looks turbulent like a stormy sky.

"They think you killed him."

Now I understand why my brother is so upset. Protecting Cain was his main mission. Just like me, he is suspected of one of the worst sin there is. Disobedience.

"Yes."

"Did you?"

He drops his hands and glares at me with furious golden eyes.

"Of course not! I would never do such a thing!"

"I believe you, Camael."

I’ve only met the Angel of Joy occasionally since the Garrison was given its mission – dozens of millions years ago – but I know he is as devoted to our Father as I am, and there is an honest look in his eyes. I’ve always seen Camael look peaceful and joyful. Joy is in his nature, and seeing him like this is unusual.

It doesn’t seem like my support is making him any less upset. He stays silent and stares down at the ground restlessly. I wish I could tell him our brothers will establish the truth and all suspicions will be discarded, but I would be lying. Because I have no idea what will happen to us. Perhaps we will be sent to rehabilitation, or executed. Or left in here for all eternity.

"I am accused of betraying the Garrison and conspiring with Azazel to lure our brothers into a trap, according to Raphael," I say gloomily, driven by the burning need to justify myself.

Camael stares at me with his three golden eyes wide open.

"You, a traitor? This is nonsense."

He didn't hesitate at all. Not even for one second. His trust in me warms me up from the inside.

"What happened exactly?" he asks. "Why are you accused of such infamy?"

Before I get to reply, Raphael appears in front of us and extinguishes the holy fire with a snap of his fingers. Then he grabs us by the shoulder and spreads his wings open.

A few seconds later I find myself right in the middle of a huge semicircular amphitheater, Camael by my side. We are standing before a heavy desk made of dark wood where the three Archangels are seated. Michael in the middle, Raphael at his left, and Gabriel at his right. I throw a glance behind us and see hundreds of my brothers sitting in the stands, including the entire Garrison.

"We are gathered here today to judge our brothers Castiel and Camael for their involvement in Lucifer’s escape and the summoning of the Mother of All."

I snap my face up to stare at Michael in shock. What? Lucifer has _escaped_? And who is this Mother of All?

"As well as in Adam’s, Eve’s and Cain’s death. And many more Humans," Raphael adds, glaring down at me.

So Adam and Eve are dead. I suspected as much. I hear my brothers exchanging whispers as I square my shoulders in dignified silence.

They can’t blame this on me. I did not disobey, so I have nothing to fear. I never betrayed the mission God gave me, and I’ve always followed orders to the letter. I am a loyal soldier. A good son.

Michael stands up slowly, radiating with light and power.

"Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos, let’s hear your testimony."

The three Sisters of Fate step forward. I've heard about them my entire life, and especially since Paradise was created, but I had never met them in person before.

Clotho is almost as tall as an Archangel, Lachesis is a bit shorter than me, and Atropos is frail and barely half my size. I can’t help but stare. Now I understand why we call them _Sisters_ and not brothers or Angels. They are similar in appearance to us, but their Grace is dark, their body covered in sigils and some kind of scriptures, their shapes are sharper and chiseled, and there are no feathers on their membranous wings. Also, they have seven eyes instead of three like we do.

My brothers and I have been created to be God's weapons, shaped to be warriors, while the Sisters of Fate are slender and have this look of wisdom and ingenuity. We might look similar, but I don't think they really are Angels.

They look up at the Archangels with silver eyes and speak with one voice, like a single entity.

"Adam and Eve were supposed to die after living for over nine hundred years and having another son named Seth. Cain was to have many descendants that would have a great purpose in the future. Azazel destroyed our work and now we have to write it all over again taking these changes into account. Not to mention that Castiel trampled hundreds of Humans for no valid reason! You can't even begin to imagine how much work it will take to fix everything!"

Camael's confused gaze goes from the Sisters to the Archangels.

"Why don't we just bring Adam, Eve and Cain back to life then? Can't we make an exception? After all, they are God's chosen ones..."

A glimmer of hope lightens up his golden eyes.

"Be quiet, traitor!" Raphael hisses. "You more than anyone know why we can't do that. Adam's soul has been consumed to bring Lucifer back, Eve's soul has merged with the Mother of All, and the Reapers never found Cain's anywhere."

"Easy, Raph..." Gabriel says in a low whisper. "Nothing proves they are Azazel's accomplices yet..."

Gabriel spreads a wing to wrap it around Raphael's shoulders, which seems to slightly calm him down. The Sisters of Fate don't even spare us a glance as they return to their seats. Camael lowers his head, curling his hands into fists.

"Cain's soul didn't rise to Heaven...?"

His voice was barely above a whisper and I almost don't hear his words even though I am standing right next to him.

"Let's start again from the beginning," Michael says. "Azazel took possession of Adam's body in the presence of Castiel who only gave the alarm hours later, which led the Garrison's soldiers into a trap that annihilated their powers. They had to watch helplessly as Lucifer was freed. As for Cain, he was supposedly under Camael's protection at the time of his death. All indications lead to believe that both of you plotted with Azazel to free Lucifer."

"Well, we didn't," I declare in a firm voice, my gaze unwavering.

Michael stares at me for a long moment, until Uriel's fierce voice breaks the silence: "Castiel is the most loyal and obedient Angel in the Garrison! He barely flinched when his favorite human species went extinct before his eyes, so why do you think he would go on and plot to free  _ Lucifer _ ?"

"Precisely. He might share Lucifer's hatred for the remaining human species."

I turn my head to glance at Uriel who looks like he's thinking hard to find something to reply. Anael rises to his feet and walks forward until he's standing between Camael and I, his green eyes calm and filled with confidence.

"I vouch for Castiel completely. I know him to be incapable of lying and deceiving. I am willing to share his punishment if it turns out that I am wrong."

He unfurls his white wings to wrap them around us protectively, nearly making me stumble over.

"Castiel is faithful to our Father and would never stand against His will. As for Camael... he is devoted to his mission and most likely appreciates Humans more than all of us combined."

I never thought my brothers would support me so ardently.

A rustling of feathers announces the sudden arrival of an Angel just in front of us.

"Samandriel. What are you doing here? We are in the middle of a trial," Raphael asks reproachfully.

Samandriel folds his wings and bows with humility.

"I wanted to prevent an innocent for being accused wrongly. I was completing my mission with the low-grade Cherubs when I saw... Cain alive and well, at the exact same place Camael said he saw him burst into flames."

Gabriel snaps his wings open and disappears right away, most likely to verify Samandriel's claims.

All Angels start speaking over each other, rising their voices louder by the second. I throw a glance at Camael who looks frozen to the spot, his eyes wide open. His Grace is swirling inside his body with...  _ joy _ ? Or is it hope?

Samandriel nods at us and joins the gathering in the terraces. Given the turn of events, it looks like Camael is going to be exonerated. The soft weight of Anael's wing on my shoulders is soothing. We share a look and I see in his eyes something fond and protective that reminds me of the way Eve smiles in Abel's Paradise.

Gabriel comes back after a few minutes of chattering noise, raising a hand to impose silence.

"What Samandriel said is true. Cain is indeed alive and his soul is undamaged. Which makes the charge brought against Camael null and void."

"But I did see him with my own eyes burst into flames! How–"

"It might have been an illusion cast by Azazel to sow doubt and discord among us," Michael settles.

"Camael, you have been proven innocent. You may join your brother in the terraces and go back to your mission once Castiel has been tried."

"Good luck, Castiel," Camael tells me before he joins the rest of the Garrison.

I can hear the low humming of my brothers exchanging whispers behind me. Anael's presence at my side fills me with confidence. I trust Heaven's justice and God, but knowing that the Garrison believes me is a huge relief.

Now I need the Archangels to believe in my innocence too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Any other Human would have exploded if he had tried to slip a single digit inside. Literally. Nothing filthy implied here."_


	7. Balthazar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Camael and Castiel are suspected of treason and stand trial. Camael is proven innocent when Cain turns out to be alive. Castiel, on the other hand, has yet to prove that he never made a pact with Azazel to free Lucifer and invoke the Mother of All.

The Archangels stand up in deafening silence.

"Castiel. Why did you wait so long to give the alarm? Why did you send your brothers straight into a trap? And why did you destroy a city with your true form? The death and mutilation of these Humans had not been written by the Sisters of Fate. Explain yourself."

"Just tell them exactly what happened, Castiel," Anael whispers to me.

His wing leaves my shoulder with a caress and he walks back to sit in the gathering next to Rachel, Uriel and Samandriel. I stand alone under the gaze of the Archangels and all my brothers watching. I'm stumped for a couple seconds, searching for the right words to say.

"I was watching over Eve. When she stepped into her house, Azazel was already there inside Adam's body."

My voice sounds stiff even to myself.

"Why were you watching over Eve and not Adam?"

"Her soul is brighter and Adam had not moved or said a single word since Abel died. I figured he was so apathetic he wouldn't be in any kind of danger. If we had known Azazel would target them, the entire Garrison would have been sent on a mission to protect them."

"How could you tell that Azazel was possessing Adam?"

"I recognized his aura, his voice and his yellow eyes."

Michael eyes me intently before he motions to the gathering of Angels.

"Balthazar, step forward."

An Angel I have never met before walks confidently to the Archangels, as if he took part in trials every day.

"Balthazar," Gabriel says. "You are in charge of a search and training mission on human vessels. Was it possible for Azazel to take control of a Human even though possession is still only a project plan?"

"Technically yes, even if it's still only a project plan, any Angel could in theory take a human vessel, provided that said Human has agreed to this. But in this very particular case, Azazel is no longer an Angel, but an abomination. I have no idea whether or not his new nature requires from him to obtain the vessel's consent."

A whisper runs through the crowd as I stare at Balthazar unblinkingly. He merely winks at me.

Possessing Humans is a project from _Heaven_, then? Is this the Lord’s will? But why would He want such a thing?

"Why possess Adam who was under the Garrison’s watch, though?" I tilt my head in confusion. "It would have been easier for Azazel to just possess any other Human. Was it revenge?"

Balthazar looks surprised and replies with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh. So you don’t know? Hm. Well. That’s awkward. Actually, Adam and Eve are not just God’s chosen ones, they have a special kind of power running through their veins that will be passed on from generation to generation. This is why they could see and hear us without screaming in agony. Their soul is special too, even more so after they ate the apple of Wisdom. I could explain it all to you with diagrams and equations, but to sum it up: Adam and Eve as well as their offspring can see Angels, and to this day they also are the only Humans able to host Angels or even Archangels inside their bodies. I guess now that Adam and Eve are dead, Cain is the only one left, obviously. Good thing he didn’t die after all, that’d have made the purpose of my mission obsolete. Anyway, all this to say Azazel could only choose between Adam, Eve and Cain. Any other Human would have exploded if he had tried to slip a single digit inside. Literally. Nothing filthy implied here."

I can hear Uriel chuckling. He’s the only one.

Balthazar seems to be pondering about something and mutters thoughtfully: "But all of this only applies if Azazel still functions like an Angel… And he does have a tendency to hold grudges…"

Michael looks back to me.

"Continue your report, Castiel."

Taken aback by Balthazar’s revelations, I struggle to collect my thoughts. Where was I again?

"Azazel... greeted Eve, she was frightened. I wanted to neutralize the enemy before giving the alarm, so he wouldn’t have a chance to flee. At that moment he put his hand on a seal he drew on the wall with Adam’s blood. It paralyzed me immediately and I was thrown off to the other side of the Earth, right on a human city, and deprived of all my powers for around four hours."

"Could you replicate that seal from memory?"

"Yes."

I lift a hand and let a tiny portion of my Grace pearl on my fingertips. I draw the seal in the air, as I remember each and every one of the elements composing it in great details, guessing from the blood traces I saw on the wall the exact way to recreate it accurately. The glowing circle and sigils are now floating in front of me, rippling along with air movements.

I hear an outraged gasp behind me and turn around to see the Sisters of Fate have jumped to their feet, eyes wide open and wings shivering.

"This is a banishing sigil! Its use is strictly forbidden and no one is supposed to know it!"

"It’s a bit too late, sis… Sounds like Azazel knows it pretty well, and all of our brothers here do to, now," Balthazar says, smoothing his feathers.

Uriel is sniggering and Anael calls him to order with a smack of wing on his head.

The Sisters are loudly whispering among themselves, obviously furious. I clear the glowing sigil with a handwave and the tiny portion of my Grace reintegrates my body.

"Sisters of Fate, could you explain how did Azazel know of it?" Michael demands.

The Sisters of Fate rotate as a unit to face him.

"Castiel did not lie, it is indeed a seal that temporarily deprives any Angel around of his powers and sends him as far as possible on the planet. It is one of the sigils that have been forgiven because they are too dangerous and require human blood or a soul’s consumption."

"I can attest, human blood and souls hold enough power to perform ill effects, especially Adam’s, Eve’s and Cain’s," Balthazar nods in agreement.

"Ill effects… like releasing Lucifer from his cage? Or summoning the Mother of All?"

The three Sisters nod.

"Castiel and Camael never once stepped inside the library. Azazel, on the other hand, frequented it regularly. He was only a second rank Cherub and was always so considerate, witty and pleasant. Unlike all those uncultured soldiers, he was erudite and wanted to know about everything. We did not suspect a thing and after a few hundred years we stopped keeping an eye on him when he did his researches…"

Raphael huffs aggressively.

"From now on the library will be forbidden to Cherubs, except in the context of a mission. You will be held responsible of every word that is read and will report us even the slightest suspicion."

The Sisters bow penitently with their wings down. Judging by the way they’re glowering at each other, I think they look forward to the moment they will finally be alone to settle their accounts.

"One last question: is there a sigil that strip all Angels present in the area of their powers, without banishing them?"

"No. As far as we know, there is no such thing."

The Archangels dismiss the Sisters and Balthazar and consult each other. Then, Michael turns his gaze to me to announce the verdict.

"Castiel. You were found innocent of the extermination of the 264 Humans you mutilated and crushed under your feet. Ephra and Yasen will be tasked with bringing them back to life, erasing their memory and fixing material damages."

He glances at my two brothers who sprang to their feet in a hurry at their names.

"Ephra. Yasen. Only bring back the virtuous Humans and let the sinners rot in Hell. Their wretched souls are not worth an excursion down there."

Ephra and Yasen nod fervently.

"You giving the alarm too late is justified, Castiel," Raphael narrows his eyes at me. "However, there is no evidence that you didn’t intentionally sent soldiers into a trap in order to help Azazel. We don’t think rehabilitation is required for your case, but we’re removing your sector from your responsibility and placing it under the oversight of the Garrison until further notice. You will never be left unsupervised and Anael will report everything you do every day. One suspicious word or move and I will send you to rehabilitation right away. Understood?"

I humbly nod and the Archangels vanish in a rustling of feathers along with most of the other Angels who return to their mission. The Sisters of Fate are gone too, as well as Balthazar and Samandriel.

In a beating of wings, the entire Garrison surrounds me in a perfect circle. Anael is radiant when he puts a hand on my and Camael’s shoulder.

"Castiel, Camael. Both of you are excellent soldiers. I never doubted you, not even for a second."

Uriel groans condescendingly.

"Cam and Cas, the spawns of Lucifer? No one in their right mind would believe such bullshit!"

"Raphael did seem to believe it," I say unblinkingly.

Anael withdraws his hands and squares his shoulders into a proper General of the Garrison’s bearing.

"Castiel, in accordance with the orders, you will constantly be accompanied by a soldier until further notice. We will take turns. Levanael, Castiel will assist you in your mission today, and Miz will watch him starting tomorrow at nightfall. Then Ecaop will take over, and so on. I will keep my eye on you."

I stare at Anael unblinkingly.

"What exactly happened when I gave the alarm?" I end up asking. "Did Lucifer really break free?"

They all freeze to the spot with the exception of Camael who is probably yearning for answers just like me.

"When we arrived on the scene… We all fell to the ground before we could even land. We had no powers and couldn’t even fly anymore," Anael says.

"Adam was lying in the middle of a seal drawn on the ground, body unmoving and atrociously mutilated. Eve was here, her arms and face dripping with his blood. She was no longer herself..." Siosp whispers and lowers his head.

"She was laughing, Castiel. She was howling with laughter and completing a summoning ritual with her own blood, Adam’s blood and Abel’s bones…" Ecaop specifies.

"Before the trial began, the Archangels said our sudden silence convinced them that you led us into a trap, and that’s why they isolated you."

I mull it over, trying to picture the scene in my head.

"What about Azazel? Was he still inside Adam’s body?"

"No, he was back into his true form that looks nothing like a Cherub’s," Hcoma snarls with obvious disgust. "He was made of black smoke and scales, and his wings… his wings were… He mocked us and said Eve is now the Mother of All, that she would free Lucifer and together they would bring on the Apocalypse to Earth."

"The Apocalypse?"

"That's what he said. Then, Eve opened Lucifer’s cage. We thought our final hour had come and we were ready to die fighting, even without our powers. We were resigned. But Lucifer merely winked at us before they all disappeared into thin air and our powers were back."

Why would Lucifer spare the Garrison? It makes no sense to me. There are many things escaping any form of logic here. Like Cain’s fake death, for instance.

"Enough chattering," Anael says after a short silence. "We have work to do. Ephra, Yasen, you heard the Archangels. Orders are orders. Go resurrect the virtuous Humans immediately, I don’t care if you have to look for them through all Heaven, and fix the damages on the city. Camael, return to your post near Cain and tell me if the Human acts in suspicious ways. Don’t let him out of your sight for a single second. Everyone else, go back to your station. Levanael, you will be Castiel’s shadow for the day."

Orders are orders indeed, so we all obey at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"So it is true!"_
> 
> _"Uriel? What are you doing here? This is not your sector."_
> 
> _"Are you joking, Cas? Humans copulating with horses? I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world!"_


	8. The goat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: _this chapter contains some disturbing content, including mentions of rape, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, brutal murder, etc..._**
> 
> **Previously:** Camael and Castiel were cleared at trial, but suspicions remain about Castiel. He was removed from his sector, and he must be under constant supervision from now on.

It has been almost a thousand years since the last time I set foot in this area, Levanael’s sector. The Humans living there made a lot of progress since.

Standing still and invisible, we have been watching for hours the swarming crowds at our feet. The sun is shining bright in the cloudless sky, relentlessly casting its burning rays on the city and its inhabitants. In this area, the Humans display darker skin and hair to resist heat. Some of them only wear a loincloth, others cover their head and body with white fabric to protect themselves.

The architecture is quite basic, but the whitewashed walls look solid. More so than the constructions of the city I involuntarily destroyed. This is an arid zone, and these Humans developed an ingenious irrigation system to water their crops and gardens. Uninterrupted flows of Humans carry merchandises on animal-drawn carriages. I wonder what our brothers in charge of mammals think when they see them enslaved by Humans. Unless Father did create them for that sole purpose, just like the Garrison was specially created to watch over Humanity.

It is quite interesting for me to take a closer look at this land and compare these Humans to those living in my sector. It would almost make me forget about the punishment the Archangels chose to inflict on me. Depriving me of my sector and putting me under surveillance is more offensive than painful to me really. I know myself to be loyal and I have no doubt the truth will eventually come out. Sooner or later, my rights will be restored.

These past few years I have mainly been assigned to keep watch on Adam, Eve and their offspring, my original sector is actually situated further north. I am responsible of what happens there and I would be called before anyone else should an intervention take place.

After I took care of wiping out Adam’s and Eve’s memories, as well as those of the few Humans who witnessed the pregnancy and the birth, I watched them all closely to make sure none of them would remember anything. It was the first time such an order was given, so I was thorough. I turned out I’m quite good at wiping memories and creating fake ones. I have a _talent_ for this.

I let my gaze slide over the Humans swarming in the market place, and my thoughts drift back to Adam and Eve. After having been chased out of the Garden of Eden, they didn’t get that far away. They settled in an area with soil and climatic factors favorable to agriculture and sheep farming. In the end, they never met their kin that lived further north on the continent, even though they disobeyed God for that exact purpose. Did they give up on this idea to appease Him?

Now that’s another question I will never get an answer to.

Levanael’s pensive voice pulls me out of my meditative state.

"Birth rate is increasing to eight children on average per female, half of which stay alive long enough to reproduce too. There are already millions of them, and at this pace there will be billions before we know it. They will eventually outnumber all of us combined."

I take my eyes off a child struggling to get a very stubborn donkey to move. The animal is staring up at us, as if he could see us. Perhaps he can. This isn’t the first time I notice animals gazing at me when I’m supposed to be invisible. The Garrison’s mission is entirely focused on Humans, so my knowledge on animals is limited and I can only guess.

"Humans multiply but our number remains the same," Levanael’s green and warm brown eyes turn to me. "For how much longer will we be able to watch over them efficiently? We are not omniscient. Riemu died, there are only _fourteen_ of us left... Fourteen Angels to watch over millions of Humans."

"Leviathans were the only creatures able to kill us, and they have been locked away, Levanael. Our number won’t get any lower."

"Lucifer plans to exterminate all Humans and we have no idea what are the motivations of the Mother of All nor the extent of her powers. Humanity’s fate rests on the Garrison, even though Azazel can somehow neutralize our Graces, and we don’t even know how he managed to do that!"

Levanael’s body is still as a mountain, but his bright Grace is drawing wild patterns and swirling like thousands of storms. It is not fear. Levanael is a good soldier, he doesn’t feel fear. No, he is just anticipating our mission’s failure.

I know I can trust our Father. He would not let Lucifer destroy the creatures He made in His image, to whom He has offered the Earth. I have to keep faith. And it is my duty to ensure that my brothers do too.

I touch his shoulder with the tip of my wing to calm him down, and his Grace shines brighter at my contact.

"We are not alone, Levanael. All our brothers and God Himself stand behind us. The Garrison won’t get fooled a second time, as we are on our guard now."

His Grace seems to be flowing more easily.

"Things used to be so much simpler when there were only a hundred fish or so. Do you remember? No Heaven, no Hell. All children of God lived together in harmony on Earth..." he murmurs wistfully.

I remain silent and look down at the city. The boy finally managed to make the donkey move and is heading back to the market stall where his parents are working.

Indeed, things were easier when we all walked the same lands and didn’t need to hide our true appearance. But we have been created to obey and fight, not to enjoy the Creation.

My gaze is drawn to a man standing aside, lurking in the shadow of a wall with his forearm hiding his face. He looks unsteady on his feet as if he were drunk and I hear his ragged breath. It looks like he’s trying to get further away from the crowd. Looking closer, I notice that the dark skin of his neck is covered in blood under his trembling hand. And there is more dripping from his mouth.

I point out this anomaly to Levanael and we share a meaningful look. The man staggers to a dark alley and starts weeping like a child.

"I witnessed a few cases of cannibalism, a couple of decades ago." Levanael narrows his eyes.

The man is mumbling inarticulate words between sobs. I bend over to reach out and as soon as my fingertip touches him, a flow of colors, sounds and smells rushes inside me in the form of shifting memories. Laughter, warm arms wrapped around him. His children smiling up at him with so much trust in their eyes. One of them dying in his arms from a snake bite and he can’t hold back his tears. The few decades of his short life are swirling as I skim through useless memories to reach the most recent ones.

_A sharp and sudden pain on his neck__. _ _He struggles to wrench himself free, but his attacker is too strong__. _ _There is a slit wrist pressing against his lips__. _ _The coppery tinge in his mouth__. _ _He falls to the ground__. _ _Everything is blurry__. _ _The attacker walks away, just a dark figure disappearing in the distance__._

_He is thirsty_ _. S_ _o thirsty_ _._

_They’re all staring at him anxiously, his wife, his children, talking to him, but all he can hear is the loud pumping of their blood inside their veins__. _ _Their screams__. _ _The taste of blood__. _ _He can’t stop anymore__._

_Thirsty. So thirsty_ _._

I remove my hand.

"This is not cannibalism."

"What is it then?"

"Something new. I have never seen such thing before."

"Let’s call Anael. He will know what to do."

Before we even had a chance to call him, our General’s flat voice resonates through our heads:

** _The Garrison is summoned to a crisis meeting, room_ ** ** _ 3609._ **

* * *

Anael is standing in front of us, his hands resting on the table while he waits for the latecomers to arrive. Camael then Miz appear and settle on their seats. Once we're all here, Anael's serious gaze focuses on us.

"I summoned you all at the Sisters of Fate's demand, and also because some of you reported to me some unusual behaviors among the Humans. I need an overview of the situation and specific facts before I alert the Archangels."

I share a look with Levanael. My brothers are obviously eager to speak, judging by the impatient swirls of their Graces inside their bodies.

"So," Anael turns his eyes to Camael. "It's about Cain."

The Angel of Joy's head snaps up.

"Is there a problem?"

Anael sits down.

"The Sisters of Fate told me Cain should have reproduced already. It is written. He is meant to have a son who will be named Henok."

Silence.

Camael keeps staring unblinkingly at our general. Anael narrows his eyes.

"Don't you have anything to share with us, Camael? What prevented Cain from copulating? Did he not meet any woman to his taste on the way?"

There is a cold tinge showing in the Angel of Joy's golden eyes, even though his voice remains calm.

"Cain's heart is heavy with sorrow and he is trying to redeem himself for murdering his brother by helping anyone he comes across with. He did meet a few women but never tried to copulate with them. He doesn't want to make his case worse by succumbing to the temptation of the flesh."

Anael heaves an irritated sigh.

"I see," Anael snaps back. "Well, explain to the Human that copulating won't be regarded as a sin, considering we need him to have a progeny that will be very important in the future according to the Sisters. If he doesn't cooperate we will have to send low-ranked Cherubs to make him fall in love with the next suitable woman to cross his path."

"That won’t be necessary. Cain will reproduce within the next year without fail," Camael says without hesitation.

Anael nods and turns his eyes to look at the rest of the Garrison.

"Now that that's settled, let's move on to the incidents you witnessed."

"Castiel and I just saw a Human wounded on the neck who had seemingly drank blood," Levanael says. "Being the most talented of us all to explore the human mind, Castiel read his memories."

"He was attacked, bitten, and since then he is drawn by the irrepressible need to consume human blood," I say, the images and sensations still crystal clear in my head. "He slaughtered his own family."

Anael is taking notes for his report to the Archangels.

Then it's Uriel's turn to speak. "In the city I was watching over, the Humans became ill all at once. Every single one of them, all with different and new diseases."

"Hundreds of Humans are starving themselves to death in my sector!" Hcoma exclaims. "They’ve got plenty of food within reach but they won’t lift a finger to actually eat!"

Then all of my brothers start speaking over each other loudly. Two pacifist and allied tribes attacked each other in a violent and bloody way. On the other side of the planet, Humans are overeating and overdrinking until they die. Miz saw with his own three eyes a Human shedding his skin like a snake and totally change his appearance. Rachel saw Humans master dark powers to torture their enemies. And almost everyone noticed the disappearance of many young children under two years old, tens of thousands of them. Maybe more. It’s hard to be more accurate, considering we are not omniscient and we can’t exactly watch every plot of land on this planet at any time.

Anael is still taking notes as I listen to my brothers in astonishment. This is the first time the Garrison is faced with so many incidents in such a short notice.

Camael is the only one who remains silent. As Cain’s Guardian Angel, he no longer has a sector and human cities to watch over, so he couldn’t witness these phenomenons himself. Watching over one single Human surely is less interesting than groups of thousands of them, but this is his mission now.

"I guess all of this is linked to Lucifer and the Mother of All running free?" Yasen asks Anael.

Anael stops writing and looks up, his dark green eyes sharpening on Yasen’s face.

"It is the only logical explanation. I have no idea if this is Lucifer’s, Eve’s or even Azazel’s doing."

"What should we do, Anael?" Levanael’s wings twitch as if to get ready for battle.

"Nothing. I will report the situation to our superior officers and then we wait for orders. Get back in position and keep me informed."

* * *

The sun sinks below the horizon, wrapping the city in darkness. Humans are lighting up torches. Levanael is standing by my side and counting once again how many « infected » Humans there are at our feet. The number keeps growing.

A rustling of flapping wings, and Miz lands between the two of us. Levanael turns his eyes to him.

"Miz. You’re taking over Castiel’s surveillance?"

Miz merely nods unblinkingly. Then, without a word, he motions to me to follow him and spreads his wings.

A few seconds later we both arrive further in the north west where the sun is still shining bright but starting to set. So this is Miz’s sector. I have never seen it before.

We’re standing over a small city, less impressive and beautiful than Levanael’s. The walls are dark and cold, only adorned by climbing ivy. The sky is heavy with grey clouds. The climate is colder here, and yet, the Humans are walking around naked and…

I narrow my eyes and take a closer look. Of course I’m used by now to watch Humans copulating, but never in such a frenzy, in open air, and all at the same time. All the Humans in the city are copulating. _Every single one of them_. Hundreds of Humans, stark naked despite the cold weather, fornicating directly on the ground by groups of three, four, or… fifteen?

I look up to glance at Miz who is staring down at the city unfazed, almost looking bored.

"How long have they been behaving that way?" I ask, intrigued.

I don’t think this is Lucifer’s doing. Lucifer wants to see the human race go extinct, not reproduce even more. I don’t see why Lucifer, Azazel or even Eve would want that.

Unless this is a human custom in this zone?

"For about one hour," Miz answers in a neutral voice.

So this is an unusual behavior to be reported. One more.

"Did you tell Anael?"

"I just did. I also told the entire Garrison."

I stare at him and he holds my gaze unblinkingly. His Grace is flowing calmly inside his body, but produces a few mischievous bubbles near his shoulders. He folds his arms and turns his attention back to the city.

Three men on a carriage are positioning themselves so that the one in the middle is penetrated from behind while he’s slipping his penis inside the other man’s rectum. A few meters away, a woman is copulating with a horse.

Now this is not ordinary. And this won’t allow any kind of reproduction. What is the point of all this?

There is a rustling of feathers at my left, and Uriel lands on the ground, his eyes riveted to the city where Humans are moaning and groaning.

"So it is true!" he exclaims, delighted.

"Uriel? What are you doing here?" I ask, puzzled. "This is not your sector."

"Are you joking, Cas? Humans copulating with horses? I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world!"

Another rustling of wings, and Htmorda is here too.

"A woman and a horse? This love is impossible," he declares in an overly serious tone.

"I’m positive the horse will kill her with its sweet loving, brothers," claims Rachel who just got there too.

"Want to bet on it? She’s got strong wide hips," Uriel retorts.

Every soldier of the Garrison is joining us one by one. The small city is now surrounded by invisible Angels who are watching the Humans fornicating. The entire Garrison is here, except for Anael and Camael.

"Is that a… goat…?" Zedekiel bends to peer into one of the stables.

My brothers and I take a closer look in this direction. Indeed, three Humans are surrounding a scared goat. One man is breeding it from behind, a woman is rubbing her genitalia on its back, while another man is trying to copulate with… the goat’s mouth.

I think our brothers from the animals division wouldn’t be very happy about this.

"The hairless ape is trying to breed with the goat’s mouth!" Uriel cackles, absolutely delighted.

Levanael and Zedekiel are chortling as I try very hard to restrain a chuckle and remain dignified and unfazed like any proper Warrior of God should.

Suddenly, the goat fights back and bites down furiously, emasculating the man, then bucks to shove back the two other Humans. That animal’s fighting spirit is admirable. Uriel bursts out laughing.

"Here’s what happens to goats’ mouths breeders!"

This time, I can’t help laughing out loud along with all my brothers, except Miz who didn’t bat an eye even if his Grace is fizzing with amusement.

The castrated Human is screaming and writhing in agony on the ground, and his friend lets the goat run away to pounce on him and breed him instead while he’s bleeding to death. My brothers start to loudly cheer the escaping goat when other Humans try to chase it.

I have never seen Humans acting so irrationally before.

Uriel won his bet: the Human female survived her mating with the horse and is throwing herself into a bunch of men, women, children, dogs and chickens.

Our laughter fades away when Anael lands before us in a furious rustling of feathers, glaring at us with cold eyes. Everyone gets very quiet, except for the Humans screaming in pleasure or pain in the city.

"Go back to your station, soldiers, before I send each and everyone of you in rehabilitation."

He doesn’t need to tell them twice, my brothers immediately fly off in a swish. Miz and I are the only ones left to face Anael now.

Our general takes a look at the city. The Human madness seems to be getting worse and far less entertaining. A man is sturdily penetrating a greyish corpse whose intestines crawling with maggots are spilling over. Another just slit a woman’s throat and is trying to shove his chaffed penis inside. A pregnant woman has been gutted alive and is now dying under the assaults of twenty Humans using sharp tools.

_ **"This is a demon’s doing. A creature shaped by Lucifer himself."** _

Anael’s voice is echoing through my head, which means he’s talking to the entire Garrison.

_**"**__**According to the Archangels, there are seven of the**__**m**__** scattered around the world, each representing a human sin**__**,"**_ he points his finger at the city. _**"**__**This one is Lust**__**."**_

Miz and I peer at the city, looking for the demon.

_ **"The Garrison received the order to find them and lock them in Hell so they won’t be able to harm Humans anymore. All of you, listen carefully to the spell I’m going to use, you will need it."** _

A woman covered in semen from head to toe is devouring an old man’s feces. The goat has been caught again. It seems like Lust is driving the Humans to incest. But I can’t see the demon anywhere.

"Look for a Human with a monstrous face who reeks of sulfur. Michael said demons can possess any Human without having to ask for their consent first."

"I found him," Miz points his finger to a house.

Inside, a woman and two men are copulating in a relatively normal way compared to what is happening in the rest of the city. Indeed, the woman looks like she has two faces. The human one, soft and smooth, and another one superposed whose features are slimy, with a thick black tongue as long as a snake.

Anael stretches out his hand toward Lust and starts reciting a spell in enochian. The demon stops fornicating immediately and screeches with all its might. Its hideous face blurs and the Human opens her mouth to let dark smoke swirl out of her throat and dive to the ground. Soon there’s nothing left but burning ashes on the floor.

The city goes silent and still all of a sudden. The Humans stopped moving and stand frozen as they realize what they were doing.

A young girl who had tied up her father to a tree starts sobbing and begging for his forgiveness.

"Should I erase their memory?" I ask as I watch the wave of horrified panic unfold on the city.

Anael stares down unblinkingly at the naked and distraught Humans, and I see his Grace shriveling.

"No. Our order was only to get rid of the demon. Nothing more."

"And orders are orders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Siosp."_
> 
> _"What am I going to do now? I had one mission, one single mission!"_
> 
> _"SIOSP!"_
> 
> _"WHAT!"_


	9. Lucifer’s weapons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's note:** Just a quick reminder that I started writing this fic in french back in 2012~2013, so the Cain I wrote is nothing like the Cain that appeared in the later seasons of Supernatural.
> 
> **Previously:** The Sisters of Fate reported that Cain should already have had a son named Henok, and Camael assured that this would be done within the year. Eve's monsters are beginning to appear all over the planet, while the Four Horsemen are attacking Humans. The Garrison receives orders to lock the Seven Sins in Hell.

Cain grew his hair and roughly trimmed his beard. He’s sitting on a tree trunk and carving a piece of wood, showing no reaction whatsoever to the harrowing screams coming from inside the house.

To be fair, the woman has been suffering through labor pains since the sun rose, and now it’s about to sink into the misty horizon. Human reproduction is so tedious…

Camael is the one in charge of keeping a watch on me today, this is why I am here.

As for Anael, he is watching closely to make sure Cain’s offspring will be born healthy and male like the Sisters predicted. If the child doesn’t make it, Cain will have to try again with this woman or another.

I’ve grown used to be supervised. After millions of years of solitude, hearing the Garrison’s voices in my head and only meeting them every now and then, this is a welcome change. My brothers used to be almost abstract concepts to me, but now I’m beginning to really know them, their personality and what makes them different from one another.

I am aware this is supposed to be a punishment. Being deprived of my sector that was my charge since forever is humiliating, but now I feel bonded to my brothers by something more than just the Mission.

I glance at Anael who hasn’t moved a limb since he arrived. His eyes are riveted to Cain’s wife who’s crying and screaming in the arms of her sister. I wonder if Anael still feels the temptation to ease the delivery like he wanted to do for Adam’s and Eve’s mothers, or if the rehabilitation wiped off any remaining trace of misplaced compassion in him.

Camael is invisible, just like us. Even if Cain is able to see and hear us without any pain, that is not the case for his wife and the dozens of Humans living in the high plains around. The Angel of Joy is standing as still as stone but I see his Grace growing restless inside his body, drawing trickles of light swirling around chaotically. His golden eyes look somehow dull as he stares at Cain. He didn’t take his eyes off him even once in the last few hours.

Cain stops carving his piece of wood that now has a vaguely human shape and sighs as he look up to the sky, gazing at the mountains and the frayed clouds as if he were trying to see us. His eyes drop shut and an expression of focused serenity relaxes his features. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Camael’s wings shiver and his eyes lit up. His Grace calms down and flows again peacefully in his body. I look back at Cain who is smiling softly with his eyes still closed.

Is he _praying_ to Camael?

I avert my eyes and decide to focus on the woman whose face is shiny with sweat and grimacing in pain. I just hope Henok will be born before Rachel comes to get me when it’s his turn to supervise me.

It’s been ten months since we faced the demon of Lust, and since then the six other capital sins have been sent back to Hell. It hasn’t been an easy task, we had to be on our guard and quick to react. The demons were careful and did their best to go unnoticed or target areas we weren’t watching. Just like Levanael feared, there are too few of us to protect all humankind efficiently.

But we did succeed. We hunted down the demons. Uriel and I have thrown the last of them, Envy, back to Hell. Not without some collateral damage. Envy had already driven mad the Humans in this seaside city when we arrived, and the demon kept shifting from a human body to another to escape from us. In the end, Uriel destroyed the entire city with a hurricane and a tidal wave to trap the enemy while I recited the spell to lock it up in Hell. Uriel’s obvious talent for destruction was a surprise.

The objective was achieved thanks to good teamwork. But no Human survived anywhere along the entire coast.

There is blood dripping on the blanket and Anael bends to take a closer look. I can see the child starting to come out in breech position. No wonder the Human female is screeching so loudly if Henok is facing the wrong way. Especially since her hips are rather narrow. At her side, her sister is panicking and trying to pull out the baby’s bloodied legs.

"A boy. Just as planned." Anael’s relief is quite obvious.

Leading the Garrison and being held responsible of the entire human species while making sure Destiny is respected: this is such a heavy burden resting on Anael’s shoulders. If Cain’s offspring is to play a great part in the future, it is essential this delivery goes smoothly.

The infant is now out of his mother’s body and his skull is already covered in dark hair just like Abel’s was. He is wailing vigorously while his exhausted mother passes out. Anael’s wings snap open and he flies off immediately, probably to tell the Sisters the error has been successfully fixed.

Cain finally rises to his feet to walk into the house and meet his son, Camael following him with his eyes. There is something in them I can’t decipher.

* * *

_ **The Garrison and the Angel Balthazar are summoned by the Archangels in the courtroom of Justice, immediately** **.** _

I look up to the sky when I hear the voice resonating through my skull and I unfurl my wings. But Siosp, my brother in charge of supervising me today, remains still as if he didn’t hear the call. He has been acting apathetic all day. I glance at him and nudge his arm to urge him to get ready to fly too. He finally tears his eyes off the silent city and shakes his head in dejection.

"All the Humans in my sector, annihilated."

"Siosp, the Archangels are waiting…"

With a swipe from his claws, my brother growls and destroys a house full of human corpses.

He’s going to make us late.

"Millions of years watching over them, wiped out in a blink of an eye! My mission…"

"Siosp," I articulate in an abrasive tone.

"What am I going to do now? I had one mission, _one single mission__!_"

"SIOSP!"

His dark blue eyes dart up on me and his wings fluff up with indignation.

"WHAT!" he barks back.

"We have been summoned. We are going to be late unless we leave right away."

His feathers deflate and he nods resignedly. We hurry up flying off.

All eyes converge on us when we appear in the very same courtroom where Camael and I had been accused of treason. A heavy silence greets out late arrival. Michael’s cold eyes follow us as we join the rest of the Garrison in the stands facing the three Archangels.

"So," Michael says. "Now that everyone is here, we can begin. Anael?"

Anael stands up, staring ahead unblinkingly.

"Camael informed me that Lucifer has been visiting Cain’s dreams to convince him to agree to become his vessel."

Now everyone is looking at Camael. He’s standing straight like a fierce soldier, his golden eyes staring into the distance. Only then do I realize how much Camael has changed in the last few years. The Angel of Joy’s Grace looks nothing like its past cheerful, fizzing self. His eyes are inexpressive.

"I feared as much," Gabriel says. "Obviously Luci would try to steal our best weapon."

"A weapon? What weapon?" Siosp whispers next to me.

Cain is a potential vessel, but not a weapon. Right?

"I know what you’re thinking, Gabriel," Raphael hisses. "We talked about it, and the answer is still no."

"Oh come on, bro! Cain reproduced already, we don’t need him anymore!"

"Then let’s kill him," Michael intervenes calmly. "Lucifer won’t be able to reach Heaven to take control of him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Camael freeze just barely.

"Let that poor Human be, Michael," Gabriel huffs. "The Sisters wouldn’t be too happy if we kill him off and his death wasn’t written. They’re already pretty annoyed with what happened with Azazel…"

"It’d still be better than the ridiculous alternative you suggested."

The Archangels are arguing out loud now, as if they forgot we are even here. The air is charged with electricity, quite literally.

"Michael is right, Gabriel. If Cain dies today and rises to Heaven, he’ll be at our disposal and out of Lucifer’s reach. We could just resurrect him whenever we need him. He is the perfect vessel and none of his offspring would be as high quality as him."

"Raph, Cain served us well and suffered enough already. If we just hide him from Angels and demons, problem solved! No more weapon. And that poor guy will get to live his life in peace!"

"Be quiet, Gabriel. If we use this seal on Cain, we won’t ever be able to find him again comes the day we do need him. I’d rather stock a weapon than just throw it away."

"Hm. If I may say…"

Balthazar is standing up, not at all intimidated by the three angry Archangels.

"Why would you stock or throw away a weapon when you could just use it? So Lucifer wants to make his way into Cain’s body? Then go ahead and get there first."

Michael motions to Balthazar to keep going.

"Lucifer won’t be able to take control of Cain’s body if one of you is already inside. Plus, if it comes down to fighting, possessing such a special vessel as Cain will surely give you an advantage."

"What kind of advantage?" Raphael asks, folding his hands.

"Enhanced speed and power, better senses and perception, effortless telekinesis, and the ability to use every seals and spells involving human blood or soul. Moreover, if my calculations are correct, possessing a Human allows us to smite a demon with a single touch, whereas in our true form we can only hurt them or send them back to Hell. To actually kill them off, we’d have to display a massive amount of destructive energy, which is quite draining. Or just use our blade, but you’d agree the size difference is not very practical. A vessel makes it possible to channel our energy, control and use it in an optimal manner. Not to mention the other perks: walking among the Humans without turning them deaf or blind. See, a human vessel such as Cain is like a very sophisticated armor. Humans are made to be our armors. Ideally, in the future we will all have our very own Human to possess."

Michael stares at Balthazar and nods.

"Indeed, that’s a possibility."

"Can’t we just bring Abel back to life so he could be used as a vessel?" Camael chimes in. "Henok was only just born, Cain needs to raise him now."

Gabriel shakes his head.

"No we can’t. Not only would it offend the Sisters of Fate, but Abel isn’t qualified to be an efficient vessel. His soul is too fragile. His destiny was to be a victim so Cain could get stronger, nothing more. Why do you think he was even born when the only one we really needed was Cain? It’s always been Cain. His blood. His offspring."

Raphael gestures with his hand impatiently.

"We’re wasting time with stupid questions. The Human female will manage to raise Henok on her own. Let’s get to the point. We need Cain’s consent, don’t we?"

"Oh, it’s just a formality," Balthazar shrugs. "Right, Cam’o?"

Camael’s head turns to look at Balthazar.

"Of course. I will speak to Cain about it once this meeting is over."

"Perfect. I will take control of Cain’s body myself as soon as he says yes," Michael concludes. "The meeting is over. Check with Anael for further information, he’s been made aware of our orders regarding your situation on Earth. Balthazar, come with us."

The four of them unfurl their wings and fly away, leaving the Garrison alone in the courtroom. Anael turns to Camael.

"Camael, there is no time to lose. You’ve been ordered to convince Cain to say yes to Michael. Go right now."

The Angel of Joy nods, spreads his white wings and flies off with a soft rustling sound.

Siosp walks to our general with a desperate look in his dark eyes.

"Anael, my Humans are dead. All of them, dead! What am I going to do now? Tell me what to do! What are the orders?"

Anael raises a hand to shut him up.

"In response to the recent events, we have new orders. We did lock away a few demons, but Lucifer created a lot more of them and even the Horsemen rallied behind him."

"The Horsemen?" Ecaop tilts his head in confusion.

"Pestilence, War, Famine and Death. They are natural regulators of life. They joined him out of their own will, except for Death that Lucifer had to chain up. And every Horseman can kill us."

Riemu is proof of that. We are not immortal.

Anael continues in a louder voice.

"Lucifer is using them to wipe the Humans out of the Earth, while the Mother of All turns them into bloodthirsty monsters. Our observation mission is suspended, brothers. We are at war now, and we must fight to save as many Humans as we can. Cain’s offspring and some other Humans I will show you have to be protected at all cost."

"What about our sectors!?" Siosp harrumphs, obviously still upset about the Humans that died under his watch.

"There are no more sectors! Forget about sectors! Keep on the move, smite any abnormal Human you come across, protect or resurrect the chosen ones, send demons back to Hell, just act first and keep me informed later! We are at war! Let me deal with the administration, and you, act like _Warriors of God__!_ And it will remain so until Lucifer is back into his cage."

Anael’s piercing gaze focuses on me.

"However, Castiel’s punishment still holds. He will constantly be accompanied by one of you."

I nod and step back to stand next to Siosp who’s still mumbling something about sectors, and I spread my wings, ready to fight on the battlefield.

"Dismissed!" Anael shouts.

We all take off at once to roam the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Oh to hell with this! Get out of my way, just leave it to me!"_


	10. The first vessel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Henok, Cain's son, is born. Michael wants to take possession of Cain's body before Lucifer does. War has been declared, and the observation mission suspended until further notice.

"I, Cain, son of Adam and Eve, willingly accept to be used as the Archangel Michael’s vessel."

God’s last chosen one’s voice rises loud and clear in the desert where we brought him. The sand is glittering like diamond powder in the sunlight. Cain is gazing up at us with the same confidence his parents used to display a few decades ago, hair undulating in the wind grazing over the dunes. The entire Garrison as well as Balthazar and Michael are surrounding him.

Camael stoops down and whispers to him: "You only need to say _yes_, Cain."

The son of Adam and Eve shares a look with his Guardian Angel, then turns again to face the Archangel.

"Then, _yes_, Michael," Cain enunciates as he spreads his arms.

Michael remains silent and takes one step forward, towering over his vessel, claws digging deeply into the sand. When he closes his eyes, his Grace starts radiating blinding light, his outlines blurring and fading into the brightness.

"Fascinating, isn’t it?" Balthazar murmurs, leaning over me. "See, our kind doesn’t really have a corporeal body like Humans or animals do. Our wings, our appearance, our hands or eyes… all of it is actually just solidified Grace trying to contain itself in constant fusion with the holy spirit. The Grace is an element in itself, like water it can freeze or evaporate. For instance, our blade is solid Grace, and the banishing sigil Azazel used on you has the effect of temporarily freezing the Grace."

I glance at Balthazar who looks delighted, as if this moment were just an enjoyable pastime to him, instead of a very solemn event and a decisive step forward in this war.

And why is he telling _me_ all this?

I ignore him and focus my attention on Michael, squinting at the intense light. His body has vanished, and instead, a heavy flow or pure light is raining on Cain whose body is absorbing it all easily.

By my side, Balthazar keeps talking and moving his hands around excitedly.

"Bottom line is, Angels are quite simple to figure out. Once you get how Graces work, all is said. Whereas Humans… ah, Humans! Do you even realize how complex are these creatures whose evolution you’ve been watching all this time, Cassy? No, of course you don’t, nobody told you… They’re made up of so many components, their blood allow so many possibilities, and their soul is a literal energy store. In a way, they are similar to _raw material of creation_, you see, malleable, we could shape them to any kind of use if we just tried. For example, do you know what happens if we pick up a wandering soul that refused to be taken away by a Reaper and we–"

"Quiet," I cut him short, annoyed by his never-ending stream of words.

He does shut up. All eyes are on Cain’s body that has absorbed Michael’s entire Grace. Within a hundred meters radius, sand melted into glass as a result of the energy blast and the blue sky and our bright silhouettes are reflected on it.

I watch as he lowers his arms and opens his eyes. The look on his face is diametrically different from Cain’s usual one. Even more so because now, over this face, a second and translucent one is superimposed. Michael’s face. It is so strange that such a tiny creature can contain inside him the eldest of the Archangels.

He takes a deep breath, and two slightly blurred wings burst from his back.

"These wings are actually a partial materialization of his Grace, which is half-transposed into an ephemeral parallel dimension, meaning it’s not directly discernible for mortals. This supports my theories! It’s the Human’s blood that–"

Suddenly, Michael falls to his knees with a hiss of pain, and Balthazar trails off, looking taken aback.

"Michael!" Anael stoops down to look at him. "Is everything alright?"

Michael doesn’t answer, but I see his vessel trembling. He flattens a shaking hand on the glass ground and snaps his head up to glare at a stunned-looking Camael with cold fury in his eyes. There are flames consuming his borrowed skin, and his vessel’s jaw is clenched hard. Looking closer, I notice his veins are standing out and glowing red. As if his blood were made of _lava_.

"Is that supposed to happen?" I ask Balthazar.

"Uh, not really, no…"

Michael's borrowed body rises to his feet, still glaring at the Angel of Joy with wrath in his eyes. His pale blurred wings snap open aggressively, and I notice that they're flickering like a candle's light.

** _LUCIFER IS ATTACKING US! THERE ARE HORSEMEN AND DEMONS WITH HIM! REQUESTING BACKUP IMMEDIATELY!_ **

The voice in our heads makes us all jump and unfurl our wings. It was Raphael's voice. This is a direct order, we have to obey. Orders are orders.

But Anael motions to us to wait for Michael's permission.

Confined inside his tiny human body, Michael tears his eyes off Camael and focuses his gaze on the rest of us, while flames slither up his arms and face.

"Let’s go."

* * *

Michael clearly is infinitely faster than us under his new form: instead of flying up to the sky, he just _disappeared_. Covering such a distance takes dozens of seconds even if we hurry up, but it would seem like the Archangel did it in a split second, since he is already there when we finally reach the battlefield.

Flying in formation with the Garrison and Balthazar by my side, we dive straight to the ground through clouds loaded with steam and electricity. From this high, I see a dark stain growing to invade the entire continent, spreading beyond the oceans like a plague. The swarming black mass is studded with countless shining dots. Those are my brothers fighting, their Grace ablaze with fervor.

We head to the Apocalypse's epicenter. It is pure chaos. The ground is crawling with demons, monstrous red-eyed hounds and wandering souls Reapers are desperately trying to snatch from Lucifer's pawns' claws. They walk the Earth, ripping Humans apart and gutting them methodically like an unstoppable tidal wave. This is a purge. Looks like Lucifer is firmly determined to wipe Humans off the planet for real and resorting to drastic measures to achieve that.

For Lucifer is here, just as radiant and beautiful as he was when we fought against the Leviathans and when he rebelled. Unlike Azazel, he retained all of his celestial purity. Could it be that an Archangel does not fall the same way a common Cherub would?

The look in his eyes, though, is different. They’re holding a storm inside, blazing with wrath.

The fallen Archangel is fighting against Gabriel and Raphael. I can’t see Michael – his vessel is so tiny I lost sight of it.

Our general is yelling orders, splitting us into groups and sending us to different strategic spots. Our role is to ward off the demons while the Archangels handle their fallen brother. Flanked by Uriel, Ecaop and Balthazar, I fly straight to the East, fighting off the demons trying to hold us back. We arrive on lands the enemy is only just starting to invade. Three human souls are rising in the air, floating before my eyes, and I wave them away from my sight line. We’re not here for the souls or to rescue the Humans getting slaughtered right under our eyes. Our only purpose is to stop Lucifer and his creatures from Hell. To stop the Apocalypse.

Upon our arrival, the Humans that were still alive immediately started screaming and covering their eyes. There was no point in making ourselves invisible, it would have been a waste of time and energy. They are doomed anyway.

A thundering flash of lightning tears the clouded sky. About a dozen demons abandon the Humans they were ripping apart to rise to us in their true form. Their features are hideous and they exhale a stench of sulfur all around. The others remain on the ground in their human vessels and carry on with the slaughtering. I swing my blade at two demons, but it doesn’t seem to be effective. It just slashes through them like they’re made of mist, just like it had happened with the Seven Deadly Sins. My brothers reach the same conclusion soon enough and we let our blades dissolve and reintegrate our Grace. I open my hands to pin a bunch of demons to the ground while Balthazar is backing me up, and recite the spell to send them back to Hell since we cannot kill them.

On the ground a child with a head injury is crying, his face stained with blood and tears, sitting near his mother's mangled corpse.

All we're doing here is postponing the inevitable. Lucifer opened the gates of Hell wide, so sending demons back to Hell with no way of killing them is as futile as trying to stop the tide from rising with just a bucket.

But orders are orders, and the few minutes we're buying might be decisive in the Archangel's overall strategy.

"I found Pestilence!" Ecaop shouts, splitting away from our group. His outline disappears behind the demons swarming all around.

"Ecaop, no! Don't go!" Uriel calls out in vain. "Oh to hell with this! Get out of my way, just leave it to me!"

Balthazar and I rise up to the sky just in time before Uriel obliterates the entire area with a pure white energy blast that makes the earth tremble. The blinding light fades off after a few seconds, turning into a hurricane of devastating violence. Demons and hellhounds are thrown away by the wind and smashed back into the ground. Strangely enough, none of them seems to be affected. The Humans, however, were all killed.

Anael who comes flying over the area throws him a stern but slightly admiring look.

"Don't waste your energy!" he shouts to cover the constant roaring of Humans screaming, demons laughing and Angels yelling spells in Enochian. "As long as Lucifer has Death in his control, none of his followers will die! Just send the vermin back to Hell to slow down the invasion, and wait for the signal to destroy it all!"

Then he disappears into the chaos to help us fight them off.

I send back to Hell a few thousands of demons more, when suddenly there’s a tearing shriek of agony far off, followed by an explosion of intense light. I’ve seen this kind of light before, the same kind I witnessed the moment Riemu died.

That was Ecaop's voice.

My brothers’ voices echo through my skull, drowning the battle cries. Except for a few distraught ones, they all sound neutral and controlled.

** _Ecaop has been killed in action._ **

Uriel’s strained voice joins them, spreading the information through the celestial communication channels. A few whispers reply, and Anael orders us to hold our position, again.

** _Hcoma has been killed in action._ **

That was Levanael’s voice. So Hcoma died as well.

The Garrison is severely affected. At this rate we will all perish, every single one of us. And the Humans along with us.

What is God doing? Why doesn’t He intervene even though His creations are in danger? These very same creatures He wanted us to bow to before?

** _Yasen has been killed in action._ **

Zedekiel and Siosp just spoke in one single voice.

More names of our brothers from other divisions follow relentlessly. This is a massacre. We are losing this war. But we will fight to the last. Orders are orders.

I don’t fear death, only mission failure.

Lightning keeps streaking the sky and the thunder is deafening. A sudden downpour starts beating the ground littered with corpses, which makes the coppery smell of human blood rise to us. And still the voices rush into my head like a haunting litany, listing the names of our brothers who died in the battlefield.

Our perimeter is invaded, the enemy is making headway on the continent despite all our efforts. The enochian spells take time to enunciate, and the demons are fast, agile, hard to catch and hold in place long enough. Boiling with frustration, Uriel bangs his fist on the ground, which makes the earth cracking open, but none of the demons he smashed dies. Death is against us, and I already count tens of thousands Angels killed in action in just a few hours. According to the voices in my head, the Apocalypse has spread to the entire planet now.

Suddenly, Michael’s voice drowns out all of the others.

** _Death _ ** ** _has been _ ** ** _set free_ ** ** _. _ ** ** _Destroy the enemy _ ** ** _on_ ** ** _ sight, I’ll handle Lucifer_ ** ** _._ **

Next, Anael’s voice speaking only to the Garrison:

** _Uriel, _ ** ** _now you can unleash your wrath_ ** ** _! _ ** ** _Everyone else, exterminate _ ** ** _demons to the last even if it means burning the entire planet to the ground and killing Humans in the process!_ **

Uriel doesn’t bother hiding his delight when he makes his colossally destructive power crash down on the ground, with even more violence than he did before. I think that the death of our three brothers in arms filled him with pure hatred. Entire forests are set ablaze like twigs, lakes evaporate, the earth is quaking and splitting under my brother’s repeated blasts. Explosions pound the ground and burn to ashes demons, animals and Humans alike. Balthazar and I are helping him destroy as efficiently as we can, but we obviously don’t have his natural talent for destruction. Everything is going up in flames as far as I can see, glowing red under the night sky. Thick burning smoke is rising, spangled with wandering souls.

** _STOP._ **

I freeze as I was about to strike with my blade a few demons that have survived Uriel’s last attack.

I know that soft and imperious voice.

_Lucifer._

The enemy stopped moving too, and the world-wide battlefield has grown still. The fire roaring is the only sound that can be heard in this silence.

Uriel unfurls his wings and flies toward the Apocalypse’s epicenter, followed closely by Balthazar and I. Radiant figures appear in the horizon and we head in their direction. We stop at a safe distance, ready to act within a second if needed. Anael and the rest of the Garrison join us, as well as several Angels from other divisions. A glowing circle of warriors of God is starting to form all around the Archangels.

Gabriel and Raphael are surrounding Lucifer, and I notice Michael inside his human vessel standing on the palm of Raphael’s hand. Cain’s body is shivering violently, still consumed by flickering flames, and Michael looks like he’s trying – and failing – to heal his host. His blurred wings are no longer white, now they look like they’re made of fire and embers. Obviously Balthazar was wrong: the son of Adam and Eve is unable to contain the most powerful Archangel.

As for Lucifer, he’s gazing at the devastated landscape with sad eyes, his wings folded behind his back. Rain stopped and clouds are parting, revealing a pale blue sky. The break of dawn is bathing the skyline with sunbeam.

Lucifer’s Grace is whirling wistfully at this sight. When he lifts a hand, the other Archangels take a step back warily.

"Have no fear, brothers," Lucifer whispers and his voice tinged with bitterness echoes through my head.

He brings his hand down gracefully, and the fire ravaging the land dies out right away.

"It’s over."

He makes a sharp gesture, and I stare in astonishment as demons and hellhounds dive into the ground, going back to where they came from, leaving only sulfur fumes behind. Some of them seem reluctant to follow suit, and Lucifer unblinkingly snaps his fingers, making them explode. On the ground, the portal he had opened to Hell is closing down.

"Lucifer… what are you playing at? Have you decided to repent?"

"I’m not playing, Michael. And there is no reason for me to repent. I did what I had to do."

His face and pure white wings are glowing in the morning light.

Michael winces and grimaces in pain, but manages to pull himself together and square his shoulders.

"There is still time for you to get back on the right path, Lucifer. Heaven will welcome you again. If you genuinely repent of disobeying, Father will forgive you. Come back to us, brother."

As Michael is talking and Gabriel staring in silence, Raphael reaches out to Lucifer hesitantly. There is in his eyes a silent supplication, a harrowing kind of vulnerability I had never seen before.

By my side, Anael tenses up.

Lucifer lowers his head.

"What do you think I’m trying to achieve here, Michael? I’m not rebelling and I’m not acting on a whim. I’m trying to save our Father’s last perfect creation. I’m trying to save Him. I’m trying to save you, brothers, from this plague, this failed experiment that Humans are. They have misled our Father already, it’s only a matter of time before they corrupt you as well."

Raphael lowers his hand, his Grace stiffening up.

"Oh come on Luci, you’re giving Humanity way too much credit! These silly tiny creatures barely managed language a few thousands years ago!"

Lucifer narrows his eyes at Gabriel.

"Don’t underestimate Humans, little brother. Beneath their fragile and harmless constitution, they are selfish, cruel and manipulative. They will destroy you along with this world."

Lucifer’s eyes graze over the Angels crowded around in this landscape of ashes and embers.

"If only I could make you _understand_. Look at everything Humans have corrupted since they’ve been created! Why fight against me? I am not your enemy. I love God more than anything and I want to save Him and His creation. But watching my little brothers perish to the last and the Earth burn to ashes is too high a price to pay. Join me, and everything will go back to the way it used to be before _they_ were created…"

The Garrison has been created together with Humans. Lucifer is referring to a time I never lived through. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Uriel staring at Lucifer with wide eyes, shuddering the way he did just before he knelt before Adam and Eve as we were ordered.

"That’s quite presumptuous of you, lecturing us about what is good for the Lord. He is all-knowing and all-seeing, and you think you know best? Don’t you dare saying He is weak enough to be manipulated by these Earth maggots, this is blasphemy of the worst kind!" Raphael snarls indignantly.

"Father is not infallible, Raphael! I used to believe He was, but He is NOT! Open your eyes!"

"Lucifer. Stop thinking. All we have to do is to be obedient to our Father and never question His orders. For His orders _are_ just, even those we are not able to understand. Come back and prove yourself as a good son, a good soldier…" Michael’s vessel’s veins are glowing red now. "… or else we will lock you up inside a new cage that no one could set you free from, not even the Mother of All or the abominations you created from the infants’ souls."

Gabriel is the only one still staring stubbornly at Lucifer with hope and plea in his amber eyes. Michael and Raphael only look cold and determined now.

"Very well," Lucifer says, his Grace radiating light like a thousand suns.

He unfurls his wings and spreads his arms, eyes shutting close.

"Then lock me away. But I’m telling you, when the day comes you realize I was right…" His stormy blue eyes snap open, any trace of sadness washed away. "… you will be the ones to set me free. And together, we will bring the Apocalypse to wipe the Humans of the Earth."

The sun is rising above the skyline, outlining the fallen Archangel whose Grace is so bright it’s making the sun rays look bleak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Castiel. I heard that you have a talent to erase, alter or create human memories."_
> 
> _"You heard right."_


	11. Tainted blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Michael has taken possession of Cain's body in order to defeat Lucifer, but it seems to be going wrong... Lucifer brings on the Apocalypse and leads a demon attack on Earth to wipe out the Humans. But he stops before he reaches his goal, as he can't bear to see the Earth burning and the Angels dying in thousands.

Mission accomplished.

Well, the Apocalypse did happen, but it's been cut short before it achieved its objective. Lucifer has been locked up and Hell is closed. Earth is now a dead planet, devastated and littered with ashes, with less than five hundred Humans who survived, according to the Angels' reports whispering through my head. I take in the horizon bathed in sunshine and countless sparkling souls floating above embers and corpses. It might be a bleak view, but there's a harrowing kind of beauty in it that reminds me of my extinct human species' poems.

There are no Reapers in sight. That's strange.

The Archangels are standing still like mountains now that Lucifer is gone. None of us would dare to disturb them. Lucifer's words are still vibrating in the air while my brothers remain silent. The Angels from the other divisions are leaving the area in groups, following their superiors' orders. Soon, the Garrison and Balthazar are the only ones left behind.

Michael drops a knee on the ground, his head hung low as he struggle to breath using his vessel's lungs. A sudden coughing fit makes him spit blood. It looks quite painful. The incantation to lock Lucifer away probably wore him down.

I'm ambivalent about this mission's success. Even when he lost control over Death, Lucifer was still overpowering us with number and strategy. He would have defeated our army anyway and exterminated Humanity if he hadn't surrendered. This isn't a victory. Lucifer _spared _us.

Most of all, what should we do now? There are no sectors anymore, almost no Humans left and Earth is dying… What is our mission now? What is our reason for being?

I turn to Anael, like my brothers in arms, waiting for orders. When our General realizes that every soldier in the Garrison is staring at him expectantly, he squares his shoulders but remains silent.

Only then do I notice that Camael is missing. I didn't hear his name being called in the long list of Angels killed in action, though. Where is he?

Down on the ground, Michael lets out a bone-shrieking scream as his vessel's body bursts into flames like a torch, fire melting his skin, burning to ashes arms, legs, skull and rib cage...

"Michael!" Gabriel yells, crouching down over his brother’s tiny receptacle writhing in pain.

Pure white light bursts out of Cain’s charred mouth and melting eye-sockets. Dazzled, I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds. When I open them again, Michael has extricated himself from his dying vessel and gone back to his true form, but he’s shaking so hard Raphael has to hold him up with his arms and wings.

Where Cain’s body used to be, there’s only a pile of ash left.

Michael pushes himself from Raphael’s arms, trying to regain his strength, and turns to face the Angels.

"Castiel."

I stiffen and take a step forward, ready to obey his orders.

"I heard that you have a talent to erase, alter or create human memories."

I do my best not to let a rush of pride puff out my wings.

"You heard right."

Michael stares at me for awhile before he straightens his back – Raphael and Gabriel are watching with worried eyes.

"This..."

Michael gestures at the pile of ash that used to be Cain.

"… is not a Human. It is a creature of the Mother of All."

A stunned silence meets his words.

"Oh. That explains it," Balthazar says like he just had an epiphany.

Raphael throws a few glances at Michael, Balthazar and the pile of ashes, frustration and confusion growing more obvious in his stormy Grace.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

Michael’s gaze hardens.

"Cain has stopped being human since his parents died. The Mother of All made him her creature."

"And the vessels that have been sullied by the Mother of All are unable to contain our Grace," Balthazar says. "Knowing this, I have to say I’m surprised Cain didn’t explode right away."

In the trial I went through with Camael, he had sworn he saw Cain burn to ashes before his eyes. Was that the moment Cain stopped being human?

"When I was inside him, I had to use a significant amount of energy to prevent his body from bursting into flames. The Mother of All spoke to me through Cain’s soul. It would seem like she shares a profound bound with her latest creations."

"I see," Raphael says. "But the problem is solved now. Cain is dead, and we still have his son Henok at our disposal. We will just have to make sure the boy is not a monster too."

"Cain is not dead."

Michael’s tone of voice is ice cold.

Gabriel smooths down his feathers and glances at the pile of ash on the ground.

"Huh, he looks quite dead to me. And a little overdone I’d say."

"By the way, if he’s dead, where’s his soul?" Siosp says as he takes a look around.

Indeed, there’s no sign of his soul anywhere. It was there before Michael entered his body, though, I saw it. So where did it go?

"I have been watching very closely the Humans in my sector that turn into wolves at moonlight," Ephra chimes in. "Their souls look bright and ordinary in normal times, but they became invisible when they turned."

Balthazar nods. "Yes, the Mother of All likes experimenting with blood as well as souls, and the results can be quite surprising sometimes."

"The Mother of All worked hard to create this abomination that she calls a _Phœnix_. She said Cain is immortal now. No matter how many times and how many ways we kill him, he will always rise from his ashes." Michael lowers his eyes, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. "I guess that was Eve’s final wish, that the Mother of All granted in her own twisted way. To protect her son from _us_."

"So what?" Gabriel narrows his eyes. "His soul turns invisible whenever he _dies_?"

Anael steps forward.

"What are the orders, Michael?"

The Archangel’s hard gaze focuses on our General.

"Since Cain can no longer die, we need to make sure he is harmless and obedient so we can keep him at our disposal until we find a way to kill him, to possess his body without it burning to ashes, or think of any other use for him. But first, Anael, I order the Garrison to find and bring Camael to me. I suspect him of hiding this information from us, and the fact that he’s missing now only confirms my doubts. I will interrogate him and decide his punishment. Rehabilitation might not be enough."

When Anael freezes, Michael narrows his eyes and walks up in front of him.

"Did you know about this, Anael? You seem troubled..."

Anael spreads his wings open indignantly.

"I had no idea Cain had become a creature of the Mother of All. That is the truth. I did suspect that Camael was hiding something, but I didn’t know that it was so serious. I discovered recently that Camael has feelings for Cain, which is abnormal and forbidden. No Angel should feel devotion for any other being than God!"

I restrain myself from objecting that God Himself gave us the order to love Humans more than Himself. But when I realize that the Archangels seem to agree with Anael’s accusation, I keep quiet. They have seen God, they talked with Him, they know better than I do. Michael lifts two hands to cup Anael’s face up.

"So why didn’t you report his deviant behavior?"

Anael hesitates and takes a nervous glance at Gabriel before staring back at Michael boldly.

"I did, actually. I reported immediately to Gabriel who _strictly forbade_ me to tell anyone, especially you two. Orders are orders, but what am I supposed to do when they’re contradictory? The three of you ought to get your act together!"

Michael lets go of Anael and takes a step back, his Grace expressionless. All eyes shift to Gabriel who stands there in silence, hands curled into fists and a defiant look in his amber eyes.

"Gabriel..." Raphael narrows his eyes into annoyed slits. "Care to explain yourself?"

"Not here," Michael cuts them short. "Not now. We will talk about it later just the three of us, and you better have a very good explanation for this, Gabriel. Now go find Camael and bring him to me. Raphael, you’re in charge. Dismissed."

We all spread our wings, but Michael’s gaze sharpens on my face.

"Except you, Castiel."

I blink in confusion and fold my wings back. We stand side by side as we watch the Garrison, Balthazar, Gabriel and Raphael fly away in a flurry of rustling feathers.

"Castiel."

A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I look up at the Archangel who’s twice my size.

"You mission is to watch over the pile of ashes until Cain comes back to life. Then, you will erase from his mind every memory he has of Camael, and everything bad he remembers about us. Make him amnesic or invent a whole new life for him if you must, as long as we get his absolute trust."

I nod, fully aware this is a heavy task I’ve been entrusted with. Human minds are complex, and I have no idea how different a Phoenix’s might be.

Michael lets go of my shoulder.

"I have been told you have quite a gift for this, Castiel. I am sure you will handle Cain’s mind just fine."

"I will."

I am a soldier. I obey orders. I have been created for this sole purpose. And I have no right wondering what Camael’s reaction will be once he figures out that Cain forgot everything about him. This is not my place.

"Here is your chance to prove your loyalty and cancel your punishment. You will have to work on your own, I need to go negotiate with Death. Call the Garrison if anything happens to stop you from completing your task."

I nod again and step closer to the pile of ashes, staring down to watch out for Cain’s resurrection.

"Do not fail me, Castiel."

With a swish of air and a rustling of feathers, Michael is gone, leaving me all by myself in this burned landscape.

After an endless night of fighting, of death and destruction, this sudden silence is unsettling. The familiar murmur of my brothers that I've been hearing since the day I was created makes it bearable, though. I listen to the Angels reporting unconfirmed rumors of treason. It would appear that some Angels from other divisions took advantage of the confusion to join Lucifer's ranks. Many of them were part of the division in charge of Earth's natural balance, or the division in charge of plants, or even of plankton. And I had no idea there is a division dedicated to rocks and lichen. I hear it's one of the very first divisions ever created.

Eyes fixed on the pile of ashes, I let the voices of my kind lull me into a wistful meditative state. I’ve spent millions of years on duty just like this, watching living beings evolve down on the ground. Millions of years listening to my brothers’ voices and sometimes adding my own too.

A few whispers clear as a flowing river say that the workforce will be reevaluated to compensate for the losses. Angels will get redeployed to another division, or will be assigned to several divisions simultaneously. I hear Anael’s distant voice asking if the Garrison’s losses will be compensated as well.

The pile of ashes simmers. I get down on one knee, my finger hovering above the ground as I wait for Cain’s soul to appear so I can dive into his mind.

There is this faint, almost distant sense of unease I am feeling. But nothing that compares to the searing stab of sadness that sliced through me when my favorite human species went extinct before my eyes.

I don’t know if Camael actually betrayed both the Garrison and Heaven like Michael claimed. But should the Archangel be right about this, what I am about to do is necessary. Righteous. Even merciful. The Mother of All most likely used Cain, her creature, to get to one of us. Cain is sullied now. He is no longer God’s chosen one, only an abomination. The Angel of Joy will be sent to rehabilitation and will come back to us purified, just like Anael and Zachariah were. His redemption will be easier if Cain has no memory of his Guardian Angel and stops praying to him.

The ashes thicken and move like lava, progressively molding themselves into a human shape curled in a fetal position. The gray color lighten, and deep inside the pale ashes there is a beating heart, red like a burning ember, unfurling a web of veins and pumping boiling blood into the body. Bones, flesh and skin are growing again to wrap around the internal organs, as well as brown hair on the skull, face and body.

Back to life, the son of Adam and Eve lets out a groan and coughs ashes from his throat and lungs. His naked body shivers and he struggles to sit up, pushing his weight on his elbow.

I still can’t see his soul. My finger is hovering over his head, almost touching him, and I am ready to proceed.

When his eyes open, they are red like fire.

"… Camael?"

He blinks at my finger, looking lost.

I stay silent. His soul should appear any moment now.

Cain’s head snaps up, eyes widening when they focus on my face – the red shade is fading back into their original color.

"… Where’s Camael?!"

Fear and rage on display on his face, Cain scrambles to his feet and holds out a threatening hand as if he were in position to stop me from doing the Lord’s work. His bare feet are leaving tiny footprints into the layer of ashes covering the ground.

Oh. There is his soul, it’s starting to appear, shining brighter by the second. Finally I will be able to fulfill my mission. I move my finger forward to reach my target, when an intense burning sensation stops me. I look at my hand in astonishment and shake it to extinguish the raging flames engulfing it. So this is what a Phœnix is capable of.

But I am an Angel, and no creature of the Mother of All could ever be a threat to a warrior of God. He can't get away from me, and he knows it, I can see it in his eyes.

Cain takes a few staggering steps back, panting heavily. Blazing fire is whirling around his wrist as a warning.

"Stay away from me!" he yells, and there is a hint of panic in his voice.

I snap my wings open to create a diversion, and it works. Cain startles and snatches his eyes from my hands to glance at my wings, so I take this opportunity to reach down, trying to touch his soul. Two of my hands catch fire, but the third manages to bring him down and carefully pin him to the ground with the tip of a finger, my Grace probing deep into his soul.

It feels like I hear Cain screaming in agony through a thousand oceans as I am thrown into the erratic flow of his memories, scalding hot and bright like a torrent of lava.

I’ve never had any difficulty in exploring a human mind, but Cain’s is different. It takes me all my will power and energy to find some kind of control over the flow. I focus to reach against the current and find memories from more than a year back, approximately around the time Cain murdered Abel, when the Angel of Joy was assigned to be his Guardian.

_Wheat bathing in the sunlight__. _ _Soaking wet hair plastered on his forehead__._

_The bloodied rock drops out of his shaking hand__. _ _Warm tears are streaming down his face__. _ _He is kneeling next to Abel’s lifeless body__._

_No._

_Oh no._

_What has he done_ _?_

_He remembers being consumed by hatred and jealousy__. _ _But why__?_

_He loves _ _Abel, _ _he would never have hurt him__._

_« Abel... _ _Forgive me_ _... »_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"I don’t understand. Why would they put Castiel in solitary confinement? Castiel is a good soldier. Loyal and obedient."_
> 
> _"Maybe he made a mistake?"_
> 
> _"Nonsense. Castiel never makes mistakes."_


	12. Shattered mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Lucifer surrendered and was locked in the Cage, bringing the Apocalypse to an end. Michael managed to extricate himself from Cain's body as it was engulfed in flames. It turns out that Cain is a Phoenix - a creature of the Mother of Monsters - and is therefore no longer fit to be a vessel. Raphael, Gabriel and the Garrison are looking for Camael, who has disappeared, while Michael is talking to Death. Castiel is left alone with Cain, with the mission to erase all memory of Camael from his mind.

_Dancing flames licking the white-hot blade__. _ _Moving shadows on the walls__. _ _He looks up at his father, so tall and strong, who is holding out the hammer to him with a smile__. _ _The tool weighs heavily in his hand as he lifts it high above his head__._

_He strikes down_ _._

_The clanging sound of metal thickens, and the sparkles grow still in the air__. _ _The warm half-shade and his father’s smile crumble away, revealing a clear blue sky over a wheat field__. _ _He can feel the skull fracturing under his blows as his wrath only grows__. _ _And he keeps hitting, over and over again__._

_For Abel has to DIE_ _._

_« _ _Why won’t you take care of the sheep with me__, Ca__i__n? »_

_The field is darkening, wheat turning into tall grass_ _._

_A light rain is falling and Abel who is still only a child is staring up at him with sad eyes__. _ _There are a few droplets beading up on his eyelashes and his dark hair__. Ca__i__n _ _heaves a sigh and gets down on one knee on the soggy ground to look at him right in the eye, squeezing his shoulder__._

_« _ _They are not pets__, Abel, _ _you know__. _ _If you really want to take care of our cattle, you can’t get attached to them__. _ _Because we are going to kill them and eat them__. _ _That’s what they’re here for__. »_

_The last thing _ _Ca__i__n _ _wants to do is to kill these animals__. _ _He can’t stand to see the blood, to hear the agonized cries and to smell the acrid smell of fear and death__. _ _He would rather just seed the earth and watch plants grow in peace__. _ _Wheat doesn’t cry and trash out when you cut it off__._

_Abel’__s wide brown eyes stare at him for a few seconds, and then his face splits with a smile that seems to illuminate him from within__. _ _There is a baby tooth missing on the front__._

_« _ _Don’t be silly__, Ca__i__n. _ _I know all of this__. _ _They are living beings, the cruel thing would be to be indifferent when they die__. _ _That’s exactly why I want to make their life as pleasant as possible and shed tears the day they die, especially if I’m the one ending their life__. »_

_Speechless, _ _Ca__i__n _ _reaches out to ruffle his younger brother’s hair__._

It takes me an intense effort to focus and manage to regulate the erratic flow of Cain’s memory. Abel’s smiling face fades away into the stream. For a short moment I regain enough control to feel again my body kneeling in the landscape of ashes, pining the Phœnix’s body down on the ground with my fingertip. I have never been thrown into memories so vividly ever before. Instead of short and blurry visions with muffled sounds, I am living these slices of life almost as if they were my own.

This is dangerous. I could lobotomize the son of Adam and Eve if I’m not careful. Or worse, I could miss the memories I’m targeting and fail at the mission Michael trusted me with.

_He is rocking his baby brother in his arms so carefully, as if Abel was the most fragile thing in the world__. _ _The infant’s tiny hand grabs his little finger__._

_« Abel _ _likes you a lot, I can tell__. _ _He never cries when you’re holding him__, » _ _Eve smiles tenderly while she’s making wheat flatbread__._

I discard this memory that is of no particular interest for my mission. I went back way too far. The slightest touch of my Grace on his soul is enough to hurl me in the wrong direction and inadvertently scrape some memories. There is one whose echoes of conversation mention Angels, so I take hold of it. Maybe it’s about Camael.

_E__ve _ _is staring at her children in awe__._

_« _ _You have seen an Angel__? _ _Are you sure__? »_

_« _ _Yes__. _ _Taller than mountains, bright as the sun, with wings, three eyes, four arms and clawed feet just like you told us__. _ _He said his name is Michael and that God loves us__. »_

_E__ve _ _drops to her knees and bursts into tears, her long hair veiling her face__._

_« M__other__! _ _Why are you crying__? » _ _Abel says, wrapping his arms around her__._

_« _ _Because I’m happy__. Oh, Ca__i__n, Abel! _ _This is a blessing from Heaven__! _ _Finally my prayers have been heard__! »_

_She pulls them into an embrace and plants a kiss on their forehead, laughing through her tears_ _._

_The ash blond hair brushing against his cheek and the warm arms wrapped around him crumble into dust_ _._

_He is walking in the mountains all alone__. _ _His feet are bruised, his eyes filled with tears__._

_Abel…_

_He stares down at his trembling hands. They are covered in dried blood_ _._

_He can no longer go back to his parents__. _ _Not with Abel’s blood all over his hands__. _ _There is no chance that God will ever forgive their original sin now__. _ _He will never be able to look them in the face anymore__._

_His little brother’s face screaming in agony is haunting him_ _._

_A gust of wind ruffles his hair as he steps on the edge of the abyss__. _ _It could all end here__. _ _He murdered his own blood, and nothing he does could ever change it__. _ _The sin is branded into his soul, banishing him away from his family and God’s protection forever, and eternal suffering will await him after he dies__. _ _Hell’s fire pit__. _ _There will be no forgiveness__. _ _No redemption__._

_His eyelids drop shut, warm tears streaming down his face_ _._

_« _ _Hello__, Ca__i__n. »_

_He startles, eyes snapping wide open__. _ _Where only void and death were just a few seconds ago, there is an Angel standing__. _ _Smaller than the Archangels and the mountain, his feet are down in the abyss and his face is just at Cain’s level__. _ _Three golden eyes are staring at him as he stumbles back a few steps, the wind knocked out of him__. _ _He drops to his knees in utter terror and resignation__._

_« _ _Are you here to punish me for my crime__? »_

_Unlike him, _ _Abel _ _was God’s favorite and had always met every of the Archangels’ expectations__. _ _Maybe the way he was about to take his own life was too easy for the severity of his crime__. _ _When he shivers and lowers his head, ready to accept his fate, a few tears fall down to the ground__._

_The Angels blinks with what might be confusion__. _ _It is a little hard to say with Angels__. _ _The stone-like mask they have for a face is always so expressionless__._

_« No, Ca__i__n. _ _I am not here to punish you, but to protect you__. _ _From that day on I will be your Guardian until the day you die__. »_

At last, I found one of the memories I was searching for. I dutifully destroy it. I recognized Camael, even if from Cain’s point of view he looks gigantic and towering. Another memory linked to the one I just erased appears right away.

_Ca__i__n _ _wakes up with a start, covered in cold sweat__. _ _He dreamed of _ _Abel. _ _A silent and dark dream in which his younger brother was a child again and stared at him sadly, a flow of blood pouring from his dislocated skull__. _ _And whenever Cain reached out to him or tried to speak, the rock was back in his hand and he was hitting him, again and again…_

_He grabs his head between his hands, trying to calm down his pounding heart._ _The cave is dark and damp, but there is a ray of light filtering through the entrance__. __He gets up and walks out, gazing up at the Angel__. __It is night, but all around the celestial being it is as bright as a warm summer day__._

_The colossal being followed him all day long, just taking one single step forward when Cain had to take about three hundred__. _ _It does look like he is determined to follow him until the day he dies__._

_« _ _You are my guardian__, » _ _Cain says out loud in the silent night, head thrown back to stare up at the Angel radiating with light__._

_« _ _I am._ _ »_

_« _ _Why__? »_

_« _ _Because you are i__mportant, Ca__i__n. _ _God wants you to be safe__. »_

_Ca__i__n _ _doesn’t understand__. _ _Why would God want to protect him despite his crime__? _ _And by giving him a Guardian Angel nonetheless__? _ _Why isn’t he already burning in Hell’s eternal fire__?_

_« _ _And how am I to call you__? »_

_« _ _My name is_ _ Camael. _ _I am the Angel of Joy__. »_

_Cain can’t hold back a bitter laugh__. _ _This is so unfair__. _ _Abel was the one who deserved an Angel of Joy to protect him__. _ _Not Cain__._

_« _ _I committed the worst sin there is__. _ _Joy no longer belongs in my heart__. »_

_The liquid gold in Camael’s eyes livens up with a smile__. _ _The moving light inside his body radiates even more, to the point Cain has to squint, dazzled__._

_« _ _God gave me this mission__. _ _It means you matter. And God is never wrong,_ _ » _ _Camael whispers with the same kind of certainty Gabriel, Michael and Raphael used to display__._

I feel myself getting tenser with effort as I annihilate this fragment of life to replace it by a long and lonely day of walk and an uneventful night. Cain’s soul is burning like lava when I implant those fake memories to fill the gap I created.

I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes. I crack a single one open to check Cain’s condition. His body looks a bit blurry through my finger where a part of my Grace is gathered. His vital functions are solid, but he is struggling to breathe and feebly trying to get free. There is a prayer to Camael on his moving lips, which, in a way, makes it easier for me. By focusing his thoughts on my brother, every memory linked to him come to the surface of his mind flow. I immediately swoop down on them.

Time is running out.

_Fingers stained, he is chewing on the berries he found on a bush hanging on the edge of the cliff__. _ _The mountain range seems to never end__. _ _His parents used to tell him that there are other Humans living further north, but no matter how long he’s been walking using stars to orient himself, he still hasn’t crossed paths with anyone__._

_He sits down on a rock to eat under his Guardian Angel’s golden stare__. _ _He glances up at_ _ Camael. _ _He must have lost height along the way, because he is now at the level of the celestial being’s hips__. _ _Or at least, it sort of looks like hips__. _ _Cain has never had the opportunity to observe the Archangels in detail before, since he kept his eyes down most of the time to show humility__. _ _But now he has an Angel standing around at every moment to look at, all day and all night long__._

_Camael _ _has no bones, no skin and no hair__. _ _Nor a gender__. _ _Nor an actual body, in a way__. _ _He seems to be made of liquid light contained in a translucent receptacle shaped into a body with four arms__. _ _He wonders if this smooth and clear surface is hard or soft, hot or cold to the touch__. _ _The wings covered with fluffy white feathers and neatly folded back are the only things that look actually real and anchored into this world__._

_Camael _ _tilts his head, golden eyes reflecting curiosity__. _ _It is strange how these three orbs manage to express what he’s feeling even though the rest of his face is rigid like an oval mask__: _ _unlike the rest of his body it is opaque and the light is less visible through it__. _ _It has no nose, not even a mouth. But the face’s upper edges are adorned with ornamental markings, like decorations chiseled in ice or ivy’s spirit gone wild__. _ _Do all Angels have the edges of their faces carved in an unique way__?_

_« _ _Is there a problem, Cain? »_

_The Angel’s voice is soft. Cain shakes his head and averts his gaze. On the opposite mountain’s cliff, a white goat is standing frozen, its horned head turned toward Camael and lowered with something akin to adoration__. Abel _ _would have loved to see that__._

_Cain squeezes his eyes shut and holds his head between his hands, burning tears welling up in his eyes__. _ _Nostalgia is choking him like a rope tightening around his throat__._

_What are his parents doing right now__? _ _Did they bury _ _Abel? _ _Do they think about their first born with a heart filled with hatred__?_

_All he does is running away from pain, from responsibilities and from himself like he’s always done__. Abel _ _was strong__. _ _He was not afraid to face life in its every aspect, even the toughest ones__. Ca_ _i_ _n _ _was the coward who let his younger brother handle the hard work and the guilt__. Abel _ _killed the animals that Cain ate__._

_And now__? _ _What good will it do to flee north__? _ _What will he do if he does meet other Humans__? _ _He killed Abel with his own two hands__. _ _His heart is sullied and his soul damned__. _ _All he does is spread evil all around__. _ _No matter what God thinks, he doesn’t deserve to be protected and spared__. _ _Throwing him to Hell would only be justice__._

_A soft rustling sound breaks the silence for a split second_ _._

_He takes a deep breath to pull himself together, throat painfully constricted__. _ _And when he finally looks up, Camael is gone__._

_« Camael…? »_

_He rises to his feet and takes a look around, wiping his hands on his worn tunic. The mountain goat is climbing up the cliff again and munching on a few clumps of grass here and there. Cain steps at the edge of the abyss and looks into the void despite the ac_ _r_ _id fear of falling gnawing into his stomach. No Angel down there either._

_And suddenly, a wall of bright light appears just in front of him with a rustling of feathers. The Angel is back. Cain takes a dozen steps back so he can look at Camael's face without twisting his neck. There is warmth in the three eyes staring down at him. He startles when a giant hand crashes down next to him, which makes a few rocks fall down to the abyss. Awe-stricken, he stares wide-eyed at the hand that is wider than the wheat field he farmed his entire life, then glances up and nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds himself right in front with the Angel's face. Precisely at the frontal eye's level which now looks like a lake of molten gold. He could almost touch it if he stretched his arm out._

_« Still your heart, Cain. Abel forgives you. »_

_« What? » he all but whispers, petrified._

_« I went to your brother's Heaven. He is happy. In peace. Don't let remorse consume your soul. Your life is shorter than a blink of an eye, in the infinity of Creation. As long as you love and fear God, you will join your brother in the afterlife. Your parents too. In Heaven, everything is forgiven, forever. »_

_Cain feels his eyes welling up with tears again, and this time he doesn't try to hold them back when they roll down his face _ _and neck__. _ _He falls to his knees and bows down with gratitude, thanking God and Camael with all his heart__._

_He will meet his brother and his parents again in Heaven after he dies__. _ _And until then, he will give them reasons to be proud of what he has become__. _ _He will be a force of good in this world and won’t ever loose Faith again__. _ _He will dedicate the rest of his life to repentance and prayers__._

I erase every fragment linked to my brother in arms but keep the image of the wild goat and lonely mountains. I reshape the memory so Cain will remember having an epiphany all by himself by thinking about God.

Now that I have some kind of control over the mind flow, the memories come in chronological order, which makes it easier for me to carry on with my mission by deleting Camael from every second of the Phœnix’s life without getting drawn into them. I erase the recent memories of his possession by Michael and my very own image when I pinned Cain down.

Seeing myself through Cain’s eyes is quite surprising. And unsettling. Do I really look so terrifying?

But suddenly, I get sucked into another memory.

_« _ _There is a village about ten days walk from here__. »_

_Camael _ _is gazing at the horizon while Cain is walking, leaning on a staff he carved himself from a fallen branch__. _ _He left behind the wheat field stained with Abel’s blood almost two weeks ago, and now his feet are bruised, his beard shaggy, his hair and nails dirty__. _ _But finally, he will meet people__. _ _A shiver runs down his spine__. _ _His entire life, he has never seen any other Humans but his parents and his little brother__. _ _How will they be__?_

_He glances up at his Guardian Angel who has been uncharacteristically gloomy for the last hour, and is surprised to notice a glint of anguish in these golden eyes still staring at the faraway clouds thinning out where the sky meets the earth_ _._

_« _ _What is it__, Camael? »_

_The confusion is obvious in the Angel’s eyes now that he stares down at Cain__. _ _The liquid light inside his body is swirling up to the fingertips__._

_« _ _There has been a battle, and one of my brothers has been sent to confinement__. _ _I don’t know why__. »_

_Camael _ _lifts his face up to the sky, spreading and folding back his wings nervously. His four hands close into fists__._

_« __I should have been there__. __My brothers were in danger and I am a soldier of the Garrison__. __But…_ _my mission as a Guardian prevails, and without direct orders I could not…__ »_

_His head drops back down and he closes his eyes_ _._

_« __I don’t understand__. __Why would they put Castiel in solitary confinement__? Castiel __is a good soldier__. Loyal __and_ _obedient__. »_

_Apparently the Angel is thinking out loud and is not expecting any answer__. Ca__i__n _ _watches him for a moment before speaking up with deference, as one should in the presence of an Angel__._

_« _ _Maybe he made a mistake__? »_

_Camael’_ _s eyes open again and he peers down at his protégé__._

_« _ _Nonsense__. Castiel _ _never makes mistakes__. »_

_A soft smile tugs at the corners of Cain’s mouth. There is something endearing in Camael’s unwavering faith for his celestial brothers and God__. _ _A faith bordering on naiveté, the kind of blissful innocence he wishes he could feel once again in his heart__. _ _He starts walking again, climbing up a pile of rocks to reach an easier path__. _ _The sun is beginning its descent, but the Angel’s presence is lighting up his way__._

_« _ _You know, I could help you, Cain__. »_

_He heaves himself up on the path cluttered with thorn bushes and weeds, and turns his head towards Camael’s face – he is now standing at its level__. _ _He grazed his arm’s skin on the way up, there is a trickle of blood streaming down to his wrist__._

_« _ _I could carry you to destination in a split second__. _ _It would spare you the pain and effort__, » _ _the Angel of Joy says unblinkingly__._

_They share a look, and _ _Ca__i__n _ _licks his lips cracked by thirst and hunger__._

_« _ _I deserved this pain a thousand times by spilling my brother’s blood__. _ _I will not run away from it__. _ _I fully embrace the guilt and horror of my crime__. _ _Unless God wants otherwise, I will walk__. »_

_The stony mask that serves as a face for the Angel remains expressionless, but his golden eyes are full of compassion_ _._

_« _ _But__... _ _well__... _ _thanks for the offer anyway__, Camael. »_

_Cain lowers his eyes and clears his throat as he feels color flooding his cheeks, then resume his journey through thorn bushes_ _._

Living fragments of life so vividly is very unpleasant. It would almost make me lose all sense of time. In these memories, hours and entire days pass as if I were living each and every second, even though I am aware that in reality I’ve been exploring the mind of Adam and Eve’s son for only a couple of seconds at most. Again, no matter how hard I try, I feel myself dragged into more memories as I am wiping them out.

_The village merely consists of a dozen rudimentary cabins built in a circle, but still Cain feels his heart pounding in his chest as he steps closer, bare feet sinking into the mud. The pouring rain is hitting his back and his tunic is soaked and dripping_ _._

_He comes to a halt in front of the first cabin – there are muffled voices and the dancing light of a fire filtering from the inside__. _ _He raises a hand shaking with emotion, but drops it back in the silence of the night without knocking__._

_Knowing that Camael is still by his side, even though he is invisible now, is not enough to put his mind at rest__. _ _Joining his hands and closing his eyes, he prays to his Guardian Angel, whispering through his soul his fear to be rejected by his kind, that they would feel the unholy mark of fratricide on him__._

_The only answer he gets is to be roughly shoved against the door__. _ _The voices inside stop and the door opens, showing a large family staring wide-eyed at this stranger soaked to the skin sprawled there on the muddy ground__. _ _An old man holds out his hand to him, inviting him inside__._

_Grateful, Cain smiles and grabs it_ _._

_Days and nights go by and Cain is providing valuable assistance to the villagers. He who had only been speaking in Enochian like Adam and Eve for his entire life learned their language in a matter of days. His knowledge by far surpass their own in every possible field, since his parents taught him everything they learned the day they ate the forbidden apple._

_Smiling faces thanking him._

_A mother kissing his hands with gratitude when he heals her child._

_A young woman smiling at him, touching his shoulder, but he softly pulls away from her._

I erase a long string of memories linked to Camael since even though he couldn’t see the Angel, Cain prayed to him day after day nonetheless. It would also seem that my brother visited Cain’s dreams to talk with him every single night. At first they talked about Humans, Earth, God, then their conversations shifted to more personal matters. Adam and Eve. The Garrison and the Mission. Abel.

_Verdant plains stretch out as far as he can see and the wind is making the tall grass ripple and glisten around his hips. He drops to the ground his heavy bag full of gifts from the villagers, and looks up at the clear blue sky. Not a single cloud above._

_He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in._

_« Camael? »_

_There is a hint of hesitation in his voice. When he opens his eyes again, his vision is suddenly flooded with light. His Angel is here, so much brighter and taller than he remembered. In his dreams, Camael had appeared each time as a different, ethereal projection of himself to be roughly the same size than Cain. But talking with a blonde little girl who has four arms and three eyes, a willow tree with golden leaves or a translucent whale had been quite strange, even for dreams._

_Camael doesn't say a word, but his eyes are bright with joy as he gets down on a knee and reaches out to him with one of his oversized hands. But instead of touching him, the hand dives deeply into the ground about thirty feet away. Th__e_ _ ground trembles under his feet and Cain nearly lose__s_ _ his balance when the track of land on which he's standing rises up _ _to the sky, resting on the palm of the Angel’s hand__. _ _His tunic is thrashing in the wind and he grabs his bag’s strap in fear it would be blown away__. _ _The horizon has widened and now the world seems to have no end and no limits__. _ _Another gigantic hand comes up to the big lump of land and stills right at its edge, palm up to the sky__. Ca__i__n _ _glances up at the celestial being who is slowly rising up to his feet__._

_« _ _Hop on,_ _ » _ _says Camael’s soft voice__._

_The tall grass brushes against his hips as he walks to the edge of the track of land__. _ _There are about three feet separating him from the bright hand waiting for him__. _ _He looks down to peer into the void, and a shiver shots ice needles into his stomach right up to his skull__. _ _Down on the ground, the trees could be mistaken for twigs__. _ _Mustering up the courage to take the leap and clutching his bag against his chest so he won’t drop it, he takes a few steps back. Then, as his pounding heart pumps adrenalin through his veins, he starts running, gathering speed and jumps._

_The surface he lands on is hard and shines brighter under his feet__. __Fascinated, he observes this phenomenon as he walks towards the center of the palm__. __There is nothing left in the world but this bright and translucent surface and the infinity of the sky above__. __He crouches down to flatten his right hand to the ground__. __No, this is not the ground, he has to remind himself._ _This is Camael’s body__. __He still can’t believe it. He is in an Angel’s hand__._

_The surface is warm and smooth, and he can somewhat distinguish the green color of the faraway ground through the liquid light swirling wildly below_ _._

_The light clears away all of a sudden, and he lets out a startled cry when he finds himself hanging over the void__. _ _The clear sound of Camael’s laugh rises, and he realizes that the Angel only removed the light from his hand, but the solid surface is still there, preventing him from falling to a certain death__. _ _It would seem that Angels do have a sense of humor after all__._

_The liquid light flows back into the hand as it is rising even higher up until Camael’s face appears in his sight line, blocking the blue sky__. _ _Mesmerized, Cain stands up, leaving his bag at his feet__. _ _He is surrounded by Camael entirely now__. _ _The three other hands are concealing the skyline while his golden-eyed face is lowering nearer__. _ _He lifts a trembling hand, and with just the fingertips, he brushes against the opaque surface between the three eyes arranged in a triangle shape__. _ _It feels rough and hard just like stone__._

_Liquid light bursts out of the Angel’s hands like ribbons, shining bright like a thousand suns when it wraps around Cain__. _ _A flow of sensations floods him__. _ _This light, it is a summer breeze on his hot skin. It is the song his mother used to sing as she rocked him in her arms. It is the scent of earth after a pouring rain. It is biting into a ripe strawberry. It is Abel’s clear laughter. It is pure joy blooming inside his heart and exploding into myriads of colors__._

I wipe out this memory as well as many others that follow without taking much interest in them. They are irrelevant. What I would really like to know is whether or not Michael was right when he told us that Cain aimed to corrupt my brother and lead him astray. And how did he turn into a creature of the Mother of All? If Camael has to stand trial again or is sent to rehabilitation, that kind of information could work in his favor.

A scalding hot memory radiating with pain emerges from the deepest part of his soul, and I seize it immediately. This is what I was looking for.

_He could swear he heard a whisper slithering under his skin. Frowning, he keeps walking and throws a glance at Camael. But the Angel is just staring at him in silence as usual_ _._

_It was probably just the wind_ _._

_But a few minutes later, he distinctively hears a voice he would know anywhere__. _ _The voice of his mother whispering his name close to his ear__. _ _He whirls around with eyes wide open and lets his bag drop to the ground__. _ _But there is nothing behind but lonely mountains as far as he can see__._

_« _ _Did you hear that__...? » _ _he breathed out, throwing frantic looks all around__._

_Have the privations and rigors of the journey finally got the best of him__? _ _That definitely was his mother’s voice__._

_« _ _All I hear is the wind blowing and my brothers’ voices arguing over Castiel’s fate__. »_

_It feels like there is a block of ice growing into his guts. Cain startles when he hears the voice again, even more clearly__. _ _It is his mother’s voice, no doubt about it, but it sounds off__. _ _A wave of nausea engulfs him as his heart rate is rising and his blood starts boiling inside his veins__. _ _He lifts a hand and stares in utter horror – the skin is catching fire like a wisp of straw and the fingers are crumbling into ash one by one. A scream of pure terror tears out from his throat__._

_« Camael! __Help me! »_ _he yells, looking up at the Angel__._

_As his bowels liquefy and his body turns into a fiery inferno, the last thing he sees before his eyes burn to ashes is the bright hand of the celestial being trying to save him_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Oh for Dad’s sake, stop that, no more genuflecting! I’m so sick of this worship crap."_


	13. Disobedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Under Michael's orders, Castiel dives into Cain's mind to erase all memory of Camael. But the flood is so strong, it forces him to live them as if he were there... In these memories, he sees the bond between Cain and his Angel grow deeper, until Cain burst into flames, becoming a Phoenix.

_Ca__i__n’__s eyes snap open with a choked cry. He is naked as a newborn infant and curled in a fetal position__. _ _But what truly horrifies him, is that the ground is covered with red-hot embers and flames glowing in the night__. _ _He pushes his weight up with his hands and knees, scrambling in panic to his feet, breathing heavily__. _ _With every step he takes, his feet sink into the embers with a crackling sound__. _ _But he feels no more pain than if he were walking on grass__._

_He rushes out of the burning circle in a daze and sits down on a rock, feeling nauseous__. _ _It takes him a few minutes to catch his breath and clear his mind__. _ _He stares down at his hands and feet__. _ _Not only the skin hasn’t been burned at all, but the cuts and bruises he received these last few days are gone, as well as the scar on his calf he had since his childhood__. _ _His nails are clean, and his body is no longer filthy after days without water to wash himself__. _ _And when he traces his teeth with the tip of his tongue they feel smooth and lined up, all there. Including the tooth his father pulled out a few years earlier because it was rotten__._

_He gazes up at the starry night sky. There is no moon and the world is bathed in blackness and silence__. _ _Since the day Camael became his Guardian, his nights and dreams have been so bright with the Angel’s light chasing darkness away._

_Camael isn’t here now__. _ _For the first time since they left the village, he isn’t watching over him. Did he make himself invisible again for some reason__? _ _Or did something happen to him__?_

_A distant sound of feathers rustling draws his attention high in the sky. Among the stars, a dozen stand out, brighter and flying towards the horizon__. _ _Angels, without a doubt__. _ _Could Camael be one of them__?_

_« CAMAEL! » _ _he yells into the night as loud as his sore throat can, before these tiny lights drift too far away__._

_They come to a grinding halt and change course to head down to him at an alarming speed__. _ _An Angel around Camael’s height lands in front of Cain, folding his wings behind his back__. _ _Standing with his feet down on the valley and his face at Cain’s level on the mountain, he peers at him with curiosity and confusion in his green eyes melded with trickles of silver__. _ _This is not _ _Camael._

_« _ _Would you be Cain, son of Adam and Eve, by any chance__? »_

_There is warmth in his voice and his eyes are kind__. _ _He is accompanied by a dozen Angels about half his size_ _ – _ _they still are giants in Cain’s eyes, though_ _ – _ _who are clinging to the mountain to watch him too__. _ _All these celestial beings are radiating so much light that there are no shadows left around__. _ _Cain realizes with horror that he is standing stark naked before Angels of God, and covers his penis with two hands_ _ – _ _which makes the smaller Angels giggle in amusement__._

_« _ _I am__, » _ _he finally answers__._

_Should he be bowing down__? _ _He stands frozen, head thrown back to stare up with respect and fear at this unknown Angel__. _ _Bowing down while naked seems inappropriate, all the more since most of the small Angels are behind him__._

_« _ _I thought he was dead__! » _ _one of them says cheerfully__._

_« Samandriel, _ _what should we do__? » _ _another asks the green and silver eyed Angel__._

_« _ _Go to the meeting room and start writing down the mission report. I will join you once the trial is over__. _ _I think that Camael has no more reason to be accused of treason__. _ _I am going to exonerate him right now__! »_

_Then, Samandriel and his Angels fly off in the blink of an eye, leaving Cain alone in the dark again__. __Hands still plastered over his groin, he peers around, searching for his bag__. __Did it burn as well__? __He can’t stay like this, more Angels could appear soon to look at him with their piercing eyes…_ _And__ Camael __could be back any time__. Camael __who seems to be in trouble…_

_Squinting, Cain gropes around in the dark until he finds it. Just when he is bending to pick it up, bright light floods over the entire mountain again_ _._

_« Ca__i__n, _ _such a pleasant surprise__! _ _So I heard you gave your Guardian Angel quite a fright__? »_

_Cai__n _ _jumps at the powerful voice he recognizes as Gabriel’s, the Archangel who used to visit Abel and him__. _ _The tone is different from the distant coldness he was used to, though__. _ _He turns around to face the amber eyed celestial being who is way taller than Camael or Samandriel or even the mountain itself__. Gabriel _ _is gazing down at him friendly, which is quite disturbing__. _ _Never mind that he is naked, Cain drops to his knees and bows down with respect until his forehead is touching the ground__._

_« Oh _ _for Dad’s sake__, _ _stop that, no more genuflecting! I’m so sick of this worship crap__. »_

_Cain’s head snaps up and he stares wide-eyed__. _ _Is this really Gabriel__?_

_« _ _Glad you’re not dead after all, little guy__. _ _I kind of liked you__. »_

_The Archangel spreads his wings and flies off too__. Ca__i__n _ _has never seen so many celestial beings at once in his entire life__._

_It is clear now that they have nothing to do with what happened to him__. _ _He stands up and pulls from his bag a tunic that the villagers gave him as a present__. _ _Once he is dressed, he sits back on the rock to stare numbly at the slowly cooling embers__. _ _This entire situation is way beyond him__._

_He gives out a sigh and brings his hands together to address all his worry through a prayer to Camael__. _ _But he gets no reply__._

_By the embers red glowing light, he watches an ant moving on the ground until it stops, faced with the obstacle that is Cain’s left foot__. _ _It seems to be unsure whether it should climb or walk around__. Ca__i__n _ _spares it the trouble by moving away his foot to let it pass through__._

_Is this how Angels see him__? _ _Compared to them, he is just as tiny as this bug is to him__. _ _Insignificant__. _ _They could crush him under their feet without even meaning to__. _ _The ant is moving away and he follows it with his eyes until it disappears under a rock__._

_Once again, the rustling sound of feathers breaks the silence and light washes every shadow away__. _ _And this time, when he looks up, he recognizes his Angel’s golden eyes and the chiseled patterns around his face__. _ _Relief overwhelms Cain as he stumbles back to his feet, dusting and smoothing down his tunic__. _ _Only then does he realize there is a stupid smile splitting up his face__._

_« _ _You are alive__. »_

_It wasn’t a question, but Cain nods all the same, still grinning like a happy fool_ _._

_One of Camael’s hands hovers over him with hesitation, then delicately brushes against his entire back with just one fingertip that is at least twice Cain’s size_ _._

_Ca__i__n’__s eyes drop shut in pure bliss when he feels the liquid light swallow him whole, soothing all his fears and filling him with such intense joy that he can feel his skin humming and his blood sing__. _ _His body relaxes and he leans against the warm surface of the fingertip__. _ _He is sure the Angel can feel his heart pounding__._

_He feels like an ant, at the mercy of a higher power__. _ _But it is no longer just out of fear and reverential respect now. What he feels for Camael is fondness and absolute trust__._

_When he opens his eyes again, the Angel’s face is right in front of him_ _._

_« _ _I thought I had lost you__. »_

_The tenderness in Camael’s voice sounds close to devotion_ _._

I disintegrate this memory and fill the void it left behind with lonely days of walk. I erase the fire and the pain. Michael gave me no instructions about this, but I figure it would be better for Cain not to remember he turned into a monster. Would Michael approve if I made Cain believe we gave him immortality? That should keep him grateful and compliant for sure.

Judging by the memories I explored, I spent entire months waiting for my trial, and I had no idea. Trapped in this place and surrounded by holy fire, time felt distorted and I couldn’t say if centuries or just hours had gone by.

No. I can’t let myself get distracted. I have a mission to complete. There are still a lot of fragments left to erase.

_« … _ _what did you say__? »_

_Cain’s voice is but a broken whisper_ _._

_« _ _Your parents died__, » _ _the Angels says again softly__. « _ _I figured you would like to know, so you could grieve__. »_

I crush this memory into nothingness. Watching my brother straying further away from his duty with every new memory is unpleasant. Camael had no authorization to divulge information about Angels, Azazel, Lucifer, Heaven, Hell and our organization.

In my haste to finish my mission, I delete a dozen of memories all at once, including the one in which Cain reluctantly accepts to find a woman to marry as Camael orders him.

_The fish skin is beginning to brown and sizzle as flames lick it__. _ _Cain is sitting close to the campfire, but the heat is bearable. Almost worryingly so__. _ _He frowns as he turns upside down the fish skewered on the stick__. Camael _ _is convinced that his spontaneous combustion was just a very convincing illusion__. _ _But Cain thinks differently__. _ _The agonizing pain he had felt was real__. _ _He remembers clearly walking on embers unharmed__._

_He brings his hand closer to the flames hesitantly, and holds it next to the fish that is almost burning now_ _._

_All he feels is a bit of warmth_ _._

_He snatches his hand out of the fire guiltily__. _ _What will Ca__mael _ _think__? _ _But when he looks up, his Guardian Angel isn’t even watching him_: _his head is tilted back and he is gazing at the sky__. _ _Relieved, Cain clears his throat and takes his meal out of the fire__._

_« _ _What’s happening__, Camael? »_

_His teeth sink into the hot flesh and his tongue doesn’t even get burned_ _._

_The Angel looks down, shaking his head in annoyance, even though there is a glimmer of amusement lighting up the gold of his eyes_ _._

_« _ _One of my brothers, Miz, is rousing the whole Garrison to watch Humans engaging in bestiality__. »_

_Ca__i__n _ _chokes on his fish and starts coughing under his Angel’s worried gaze__. _ _He gets his breath back eventually__._

_« __Why would Angels want to watch…_ _that__? »_

_« _ _Celestial sense of humor is very different from the human one__. »_

_Cain lets out a bewildered laugh._

_« _ _Clearly._ _ »_

_Camael _ _told him many things about Angels and how they work, and all of his beliefs and the foundations of his faith were shaken__. _ _Even his parents knew nothing about them after all__. _ _Angels are not these immovable and perfect beings like he used to believe when he bowed down before the Archangels when he was a child__._

_Camael’s gaze keeps shifting to the sky that the setting sun is painting with purple shades__. __He probably wishes to join his brothers._ _The idea that Camael might think that bestiality is funny is unsettling, but the Angel deserves to share a laugh with his brothers__._

_« _ _You could join them if you want to__, » _ _Cain smiles encouragingly__._

_Camael _ _stiffens and his golden eyes switch back to Cain__._

_« No. _ _My mission is to protect you__. _ _I can’t leave my post for such a trivial thing__. _ _You could be in danger while I’m gone__. »_

_Fondness floods Cain’s heart and he lowers his head and takes a bite of his fish to keep his composure__. _ _It often takes just a few words or one lingering look from _ _Camael _ _for Cain to feel overwhelmed__. _ _For a moment, he watches the warm colors of the setting sun and Camael’s bright light reflected on the river winding uphill__. _ _The valley is wide and green, the game plentiful__. _ _He decided to stay a couple of days here to regain strength before turning back to the last village he visited__. _ _A man there wanted to give him his daughter in marriage as a reward for teaching them how to catch a lot of fish in the lake__. _ _Cain had turned down the offer__. _ _But if Camael, Heaven and God Himself want him to have a son, he will obey__. _ _Who is he to question the will of God__? _ _He has to obey and redeem himself in order to join Abel in Heaven someday__._

_Sighing, he looks down at the fire fluttering in the night breeze__. _ _A twinge of conscience is eating him up from the inside__. _ _How can he pretend to repent and obey God even when he is hiding from Camael the changes that happened in him__? _ _Lying is a sin__. _ _He could end up in Hell__._

_« Camael… »_

_It was barely above a whisper, but the Angel heard and is tilting his head inquiringly, waiting for him to elaborate_ _._

_Cain looks up with pleading eyes._

_« _ _I think there is something wrong with me._ _ »_

_« _ _Are you feeling ill? »_

_The celestial being gets down on one knee, bending down until his stony face is hovering over him, blocking the crimson sky._

_Cain’s response is to reach into the fire and pick an ember in the palm of his hand. It feels nice and pleasantly warm to the touch__. _ _And suddenly, as he gazes into Camael’s golden eyes, something unravels inside him__. _ _He drops the ember, and when he moves his fingers, he manages to create his own flames__. _ _Blazing fire is whirling around his arm with increasing power__._

_« _ _You__… _ _are no longer Human__… » _ _Camael murmurs before he sits down on the valley, grabbing his head between his hands__. « _ _I__... _ _I need to tell the General__. _ _His orders were clear__. _ _And orders are orders__. »_

_Ca__i__n _ _lets his arm drop to his side, and with just a thought, the flames vanish into thin air__._

_« _ _No longer Human__? _ _Then what am I__? »_

_Camael _ _doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets back to his feet and looks up to the sky__._

_« _ _I have to tell_ _ Anael. _ _I must obey orders__. »_

_His wings are slowly unfurling behind his back_ _._

_« _ _I must obey… »_

_Ca__i__n _ _swallows hard and nods__. _ _Of course__. Camael _ _won’t be the one to decide his fate__. _ _God and the Archangels certainly won’t be as merciful__. _ _Panic is rushing into his veins but he doesn’t regret telling the truth__. _ _He couldn’t be a perjurer as well as a murderer__._

_He lowers his head down resignedly__. _ _Maybe now he will be punished as he should have been since the moment he killed Abel__. _ _He takes a deep breath and looks up again__. Camael _ _is still there with his hands curled into fists, stiff as a statue__. _ _What is he waiting for__?_

_« Camael? »_

_With his wings widely spread, the Angel stares down at him. There is a look of fiery determination and possessiveness in his golden eyes_ _._

_« No. »_

_Head thrown back to be able to look at Camael’s face, Cain raises his eyebrows_ _._

_« No. » _ _The Angel’s voice is firmer now__. « _ _I will not obey__. _ _Not until I know what the Archangels intend to do with beings such as you__. »_

_Disobedience_.

I can’t contain the revulsion it inspires me. Disobedience. The worst and most despicable sin there is, along with doubt. Camael has reached a new low. I hope rehabilitation will succeed in bringing him back on track. I angrily destroy this abject memory, which grazes Cain’s soul and makes him cry in agony.

My mission will be completed soon. The original fragments are getting rare and scattered among the ones I altered or created. I erase a dozen more, trying to keep my distances so I won’t be thrown into a whirlwind of images, sounds and smells.

I watch Cain marry his wife and unenthusiastically copulate with her. I erase countless prayers to Camael during those nine months when he stays at his pregnant wife’s side. When he finally holds his son Henok in his arms he feels nothing else but a sense of duty done. Lucifer keeps appearing in his dreams under Abel, Adam or Eve's appearance, and I make those disappear as well.

_« I will do it, » he says determinedly._

_At Camael's request, Cain left his wife with Henok and walked several days away from the village, so the Angel could finally talk with him in perso_ _n_ _. If the Archangel Michael needs to borrow his body in order to defeat Lucifer and save the Humankind, Cain will do it without hesitation. Seeing Lucifer in_ _v_ _ade his dreams almost every night to make the same proposal again is getting on his nerves._

_« It is a great honor to _ _serve as_ _ Michael's vessel, » Camael _ _says__, _ _but the words sound empty as if he doesn’t believe them himself__. _ _He looks absent-minded, staring in the distance._

_« _ _When will he take possession of my body__? »_

_Camael’_ _s golden eyes narrow and the light inside him slightly dims_ _._

_« __As soon as you agree to do it, officially__. __But I would like you to wait for now…_ _I will tell them that you’re having reservations.__ »_

_Cai__n _ _stares in shock__._

_« _ _But why__? _ _I am ready__! »_

_The Guardian Angel still won’t look at him_ _._

_« Gabriel _ _said earlier something weird about your deceased brother, and I would like to know what he meant__… _ _I have to do some research__. _ _Pray if you need me__. »_

_Then, the Angel flies off without a backward glance. And to think that he was always so reluctant to leave his post…_

The memory crumbles off at my Grace’s touch. There is only one left linked to Camael. The very last one. I reach out to seize it.

Under my finger, Cain keeps murmuring a prayer through his clenched teeth, tears streaming down his face.

_There are thousands of tornado_ _e_ _s undulating as far as the eye can see, tearing colors out from the ground and leaving behind a bleak, soulless landscape. They move in complete silence, rainbow-colored and bursting with life._

_Clothed in a red tunic, Cain is holding withering leaves and petals in his hands. A tornado drawing closer engulfs him whole. He throws his arms up and everything goes up. The petals, the leaves, the color of his tunic that turns gray._

_The tornado is moving forward and revealing a different kind of landscape. Instead of a valley stripped raw from its colors, there is now a turquoise lake on which both the moon and the sun are reflected. And right in the center of this liquid mirror, a Falcon with feathers as white as snow._

_Camael._

_He steps forward on the gleaming surface and the water doesn't even ripple. He walks until he's facing the Falcon that is two or three heads taller than him and is staring at him with intense golden eyes._

_Cain embraces the celestial being, beaming and pushing his face into the silken feathers. Only in dreams is he able to physically express affection for the Angel, given that the size difference is no longer an issue. The Falcon remains impassive._

_« My researches have been fruitful, and I have something important to tell you, Cain. »_

_He _ _takes one step back_ _ to look the Angel in the eye._

_« For all these years, you were the one being put to the test, Cain. Not Abel. »_

_Camael's soft voice rises even though his beak is closed._

_« What do you mean? The Archangels tested the both of us for our faith and Abel never failed them once… »_

_« Abel _ _ **was ** _ _your test. Everything has been done to feed your anger and envy so one day you would end his life with your bare hands. »_

_The moon shifts to conceal the sun, and the lake gets darker in a matter of seconds._

_« And… I failed. » Cain's voice breaks. « I let my resentment get the better of me. »_

_« No. You didn't. »_

_The Falcon leans in, head lowering in a smooth movement with eyes so piercing Cain could swear Camael is gazing right into his soul._

_« Despite your anger and frustration, you couldn't hate your brother in your heart. But your destiny was to kill him. We are not just God's soldiers, we are also agents of Fate. »_

_Cain feels his legs get weak and he drops to his knees without breaking eye contact._

_« What did you do to me? »_

_« It was not the Garrison. It was the work of our immediate superior, Zachariah, who received the order to make it happen by using a corrupted soul he inserted into the rock you were holding, and... »_

_The Falcon closes his eyes and lowers his head._

_« You did not kill Abel. You were forced to. »_

_There is an emptiness growing inside Cain. The lake is now made of clotted blood._

_« … but why? »_

_He reaches out to Camael's neck, slipping a trembling hand into the feathers._

_« Why? » he asks again with despair straining his voice._

_« It had been written by the Sisters of Fate, and from what I understood, it was necessary because... but I don't have time to explain. They will use you again, Cain. You are just a weapon to them. »_

_« Are you telling me... that I should say no to Michael? »_

_« No. My brothers will stop at nothing to manipulate you and torment you into saying yes. They are soldiers. They won't feel any kind of remorse or compassion for you. »_

_Cain stands up, and his tunic hasn't been stained by the blood._

_« But you do. »_

_Camael stares at him with sad eyes._

_« Yes. I do. »_

_Camael unfurls a wing and carefully pulls Cain against him, resting his beak on the top of his head. They stay like this in silence for a moment until the Angel's voice rises again._

_« You will say yes to Michael, because the world is in danger as long as Lucifer is out there. But after that... I will free you from my brothers' hold. I have a plan. Be ready. »_

_Cain ends up alone in this dark and bloody landscape until he wakes up next to his sleeping wife._

I look at my work with pride and satisfaction of having done my duty. There is nothing left of Camael in Cain's memory. I didn't just bury the memories into his subconscious like my brothers often do because it is easier. They are irremediable destroyed. The Phœnix stopped praying. He has no one to pray to. No one he remembers.

He passed out and his heart rate is erratic, but the vital functions are good. I hesitate for a second before reaching out further back into Cain's memories. His brother's death had a profound impact on him, and the education Adam and Eve gave him made him fear Angels.

I have Michael's authorization. I can build him a whole new life filled with memories that will insure his total devotion to God. The Mother of All will lose her hold on her creation.

I seize the memory of Abel's death to erase it, when a sharp pain shoots through my arm and makes me lose my grip. Wrenched back into reality, I find myself facing three golden eyes blazing with rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"You can still get back on the right path. You will be sent to rehabilitation. You will be saved, Camael."_


	14. Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** The failed Apocalypse has devastated the Earth. At Michael's command, Castiel erased all memory of Camael from Cain's mind. But as he was about to complete his work by reshaping his entire life, Camael interrupts him.

Violently thrown back, I snap my wings open to halt the fall so I won’t crash into the ground. The air movement it generates blows ashes and embers away from me. The cloud of souls scatters like a swarm of fireflies. I rise up to the sky clutching my wounded forearm where it’s bleeding Grace, while a cold and stunned rage swallows me whole. Camael attacked me. Worse yet, he is compromising my mission. I’ll have to do it all over gain should Cain see Angels fighting. My blade materializes into my hand.

From up high, I can see my brother kneeling to check on the Phœnix. Naked and trembling, Cain scrambles back to his feet and stares up in utter terror. Camael reaches out to him, and the Phœnix staggers back, brings his arms up to shield his head and falls to his knees, shaking like a leaf. His eyes are wide open, his face contorted with fear.

"Cain...?" Camael whispers, holding his hand still.

He is distracted, entirely focused on the Phœnix, with his back turned to me. Vulnerable. I could neutralize him without effort.

"… Angels? Are you here to punish me for my crime?"

Voice breaking, Cain lowers his arms and closes his eyes resignedly, as a tear rolls down his cheek smeared with ashes.

It’s now or never. Ignoring the seething pain working its way into my forearm, I grip my blade tight and dive to the ground, aiming at Camael’s back in order to slice his wings off. He will be easier to subdue and send to rehabilitation once he’s pinned to the ground.

But my blade clashes against Camael’s with a deafening crash – he whirled around with surprising speed. His face is right in front of mine, and I flinch under his stare filled with pure hatred.

"What did you do to him, Castiel?!"

Narrowing my eyes, I deliver a kick to his body to put some distance between us. I glare at him in silence, walking slowly to circle him, on the lookout for a flaw in his guard. And doing so, I focus my mind to alert the Garrison like Michael ordered me to do, careful not to include Camael in my call.

** _Camael _ ** ** _is attacking me and obstructing my mission_****_. _ ** ** _Requesting immediate backup_****_._ **

"CASTIEL!" Camael roars, snapping his wings open.

His golden eyes are glowing with rage and despair. No soldier of God should be able to feel this. _Emotions_. Camael really has sunk to a new low.

He’s standing in front of Cain, fiercely widening his stance into a defensive posture. For a split second I see myself at the dawn of my life, protecting the crawling fish so my brothers would not step on it. Only now do I notice that one of his hand is holding about a hundred Humans, all sound asleep. What does he intend to do with them?

I need to stall. Camael has gone rogue. He is dangerous.

"I’ve seen how far you went astray for this creature," I point at Cain. "But you can still get back on the right path. You will be sent to rehabilitation. You will be saved, Camael."

Camael gives out a war cry and pounces on me as fast as lightning. I barely manage to block his first attack, but the second one outstrips me. A scalding hot pain slashes through my chest, setting it ablaze. When did he become so fast? He was nowhere as aggressive when we fought together against the Leviathans!

"What did you do to him?!"

He is pushing me repeatedly, obviously trying to lead me away from Cain.

_**Hold on, Cas****! ****We’re on our way****!**_ Anael’s voice echoes into my head.

I repel Camael with a wave of concentrated energy, tearing a strangled cry out of him. The effort is burning through my Grace, making the pain grow and intensify.

"I obeyed orders like _you _should have! You _knew_ he was no longer a Human! All I did was fix your mistakes!" I snarl, our blades clashing against each other again.

I propel myself up to the sky and he follows me like a reflection in a mirror, always standing like a wall between Cain and me.

"Did you _erase his memory__?_" he chokes up, eyes growing wide with madness.

I confirm with a nod, on my guard. Now I understand what the Archangels must have felt when Lucifer rebelled. Why is Camael opposing God’s will? He needs to be forced back on track. He has to.

The Garrison will be here soon. Uriel is the strongest out of us all, surely he will bring Camael under control in no time. I just need to hold on for a few more seconds… My Grace is bleeding from my slashed forearm and the wound on my chest. It is dripping down, evaporating into thin air, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I am losing strength. My head is spinning, but still I maintain my defensive position. Suddenly, too quickly for me to react, Camael charges at me and tackles me to the ground, which causes an earthquake and raises a cloud of ashes. He has snatched my weapon from my hands. My blade catches a ray of sunlight as he tightens his hold, brandishing it above my head.

"Camael..." I whisper, my eyes widening.

No. He would never. Or would he? I know that in theory our blades can kill us. But Camael would never do such a thing. _No Angel_ would do such a thing. We are not like Humans who take pleasure in killing each others for selfish and futile reasons. We are superior, loyal, and we always act in the group's interests and for the Mission. But looking now into his eyes blazing with rage, I'm not so sure of it.

Suddenly, I hear myself screaming in pain as he stabs my left wing down, pinning me to the ground. I can't stir a limb anymore, I'm paralyzed, and he's holding the sharp end of his own blade just above my face, threatening to finish me off if I make a move.

My vision is getting blurry and sounds are growing duller. And soon, I can no longer hear a thing. My Grace is gushing out of my wounds and starting to boil into my body. I'm going to die having failed in my mission.

The look in Camael’s golden eyes is hard as steel. He raises his hand holding the Humans, and sharply closes it into a fist. A myriad of souls burst out of it, floating all around as the corners of my vision keep darkening. When he unfurls his fingers, his hand is dripping with bright red blood and he starts using it to draw sigils on the ground.

Behind him there are bright winged figures appearing in the sky. The Garrison. Balthazar. Raphael. Gabriel. They have arrived – they’re flying to us.

I try to warn them, struggling and failing to utter a sound.

Camael slams his hand onto the seal just as Uriel is reaching out to grab him.

Too late.

My eyes slide shut as I feel my wings spreading out on the ground, my dying Grace thickening before I'm hurled far, far away.

* * *

"Cas! No, don't you dare die on me!"

Uriel's voice is echoing above me. I pry my eyes open and I find myself staring into his gelatinous, congealed Grace. Everything looks dim, as seen through smoke and fog. Uriel's arms are wrapped around me and his wings are lying lifelessly on the ground. My head lolls back on Uriel's shoulder, now facing three purple eyes peering down at me. He visibly relaxes, relief flooding his eyes when he sees me moving.

Everything is blurry, the world is spinning around me and there's a sharp stab of pain slicing through me like waves. I try to get back on my feet, but immediately get pushed back against Uriel.

"Don't, Castiel. You need to stay still until we get our strength back to call the Archangels or try to heal you ourselves." Anael's eyes narrow into three green slits. "That's an order."

My head seems so heavy that the mere attempt of nodding is enough to drain me out. My sight line widens significantly when the darkness clouding my eyes wears off. Our General is standing with dignity, but his wings are limp, heavily hanging down to the ground. And behind him, several of my brothers are still sprawled on the ashes, struggling to get back to their feet, like giant turtles on their backs.

It's night and the celestial vault is speckled with shimmering stars and wandering souls. Camael obviously sent us halfway across the planet. Standing a bit further, Siosp is desperately trying to straighten his wings up and take flight, but all he manages to do is fly a few hundred meters up before collapsing back down with a frustrated growl, raising an ash cloud around.

"There's no need to waste your energy, my dearest Siosp."

That was Balthazar's silken voice. Lying on his back with his arms crossed under his head, he looks perfectly at ease, distractedly shooing away a bunch of souls with his claws – they seem to be drawn by our brightness.

"We’re stuck down here for a few hours or so." Balthazar gazes up at the starry night. "We might as well use the time to get some rest, don't you think? I have to admit, this little Apocalypse tired me out."

Siosp grabs his limp wings with his four hands and drags himself toward us, glaring daggers at Balthazar.

"Get some _rest?_ When our brother is following Lucifer's steps? When he nearly killed Castiel? And the son of Adam and Eve is under the Mother of All's control? When almost all Humans have died, which could mean our mission is no longer necessary? How could we _get some rest?!_"

Balthazar barely spares Siosp a dispassionate look.

"Well that's a bother. But you see, I'm not part of the Garrison… so guess what?" With a flick of his claws, he sends a soul flying away. "… I don't give a flying fuck!"

Siosp's feathers puff up on his lifeless wings. Anael edgily steps between them, dragging his wings on the ground, staining his feathers with ashes.

"Oh be quiet, both of you! This is _really _not the time!"

I look down at my own body. My Grace is frozen and therefore no longer bleeding out from my wounds. The banishing sigil is postponing my death, but I seem unable to stop trembling.

"I can't stand up!" Zedekiel groans in frustration, aimlessly thrashing in the ashes.

Miz and Rachel are limping their way to reach him, dragging along their oversized wings.

"Where are Raphael and Gabriel?" I manage to get the words out, looking up at the General.

"I don't know. The banishing sigil's effects might be slightly different on Archangels…"

Upon hearing this, a spark of interest flashes through Balthazar's eyes and he pushes himself upright, humming thoughtfully.

"That's certainly a plausible theory. The Grace of an Archangel might seem similar to ours, but it really is different. Our blades could never kill or even harm an Archangel. Maybe the sigil was less efficient on them…"

Ephra walks closer, a stern look in his eyes.

"Anael... Camael's crimes are of the utmost gravity now. What will be his punishment once we've captured him?"

Anael lowers his eyes. Silence grows heavier in the night as all eyes focus on our General, waiting for the answer.

"He will probably be executed," he finally says in a strained voice.

Still sprawled on the ground, Levanael widens his eyes in bewilderment. Uriel's arms tighten around me.

I close my eyes for a few seconds to suppress any hint of sadness that might grow inside me. It is only fair. Camael disobeyed, lied, attacked a soldier of the Garrison, slaughtered about a hundred Humans that had survived the Apocalypse and used a forbidden sigil on his brothers in arms, his General and two Archangels.

The judgment from Heaven will be just, no matter what it turns out to be.

"No.. Cam has been manipulated by a creature of the Mother of All!" Levanael hisses. "He deserves rehabilitation, he deserves a second chance! Zachariah got one! Anael too! He deserves it!"

Wrong. Cain has never once tried to corrupt his Guardian – quite the opposite, actually – nor has the Mother of All acted through him. Camael brought this all to himself by offering him the devotion he owed to God, and to God only.

I remain silent, though. As long as no one orders me otherwise, I have no reason to condemn my brother with additional charge that would lead him to a certain death. I don't intend to mention it unless I'm asked precisely about this. For orders are orders and I would never disobey a direct order.

Anael ignores Levanael who managed to stand up and keeps protesting.

Still tangled up in his own wings and sprawled on the ground, Htmorda suddenly points at the sky.

"Look!"

Two winged figures radiating blinding light are diving right to us at high speed, sending up ashes twirling all around when they land among us.

Gabriel and Raphael.

Raphael scans the whole group with indecipherable eyes, then walks up to me, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I feel his Grace seeping in and closing my wounds, the pain receding like the tide, leaving only a lingering sensation of heaviness. I disentangle myself from Uriel's arms, stand up, and give the Archangel a short and grateful nod.

"Once you have regained your strength all of you will go back to search for Camael. I will ask for back up immediately."

Just when Anael was about to reply, I hear a rustling of feathers behind me.

"That won't be necessary."

I freeze for a split second at Camael's voice and whirl around, snatching my blade out of Uriel's hands, ready to fight back despite my body weighing heavier than ever and my wings still hanging limply down. Uriel steps forward to shield me, widening his stance into a threatening position while all my brothers get ready for Anael's orders.

I hear Gabriel mutter something under his breath, but am unable to make out the words.

Camael is staring at us calmly with his golden eyes devoid of expression, and wings folded behind his back.

"I surrender."

* * *

A heavy silence reigns in the meeting room. There are only nine of us sitting around the table, that's all that's left of the Garrison now. Our General is standing as still as a mountain, his four hands pressed on the table and his head hanging low.

Balthazar is at his side and doesn't even try to conceal how bored he is as he dusts the ashes off his feathers. There are two other Angels waiting further back that I've never seen before, staring ahead unblinkingly.

Anael raises his green eyes and stiffly straightens his back with dignity.

"Now. Let's start by assessing the situation. A few points remain unclear, so I need you to plainly answer my questions. Then, I will announce a few changes and what our new directives are."

His Grace is flowing freely and looks perfectly neutral.

"The Apocalypse has been stopped as required by the orders. Three soldiers died in battle: Ecaop, Hcoma and Yasen. I need to know how."

"Ecaop attempted to counter Pestilence on his own," Uriel says.

Levanael lowers his gaze. "Hcoma died protecting me."

"Yasen was burned alive with holy fire some traitor most likely provided to demons," Siosp snarls. Most of his left wing's feathers are scorched.

Anael nods sternly.

"The number of traitors has not been provided yet, but I heard whispers that a lot of first or second order Cherubs were involved. The Archangels are currently cutting all of them from Heaven's communication channels and deactivating the holy powers linked to their Graces."

Archangels? Why doesn't God banish them Himself like He did for Azazel? I really want to ask, but dare not to. It would sound like I'm questioning the Lord's actions.

"Why didn't they just deactivate Camael's powers _before_ he went and attacked Castiel?" Uriel asks insolently.

Our rebellious brother's name casts a shadow over the meeting room. The General is glowering, his green eyes glowing with anger.

"They don't tell me much, Uriel," Anael snaps at him. "The Garrison is only just a small section among others and I'm one of the lowest rung in the hierarchy. If you want answers, why don't you ask Zachariah. You'll get to see how much he _loves_ this kind of questions."

Uriel bristles and reluctantly nods.

"As for Camael," Anael continues, "his fate is still undecided. He has been contained in isolation until further notice. One thing is sure, we can no longer consider him as part of the Garrison."

A heavy silence greets these words and most of my brothers lower their eyes.

"Castiel, did Camael say something? Did he join Lucifer's side?"

I turn my head to look at Ephra, but Anael cuts me short before I have a chance to answer: "Not another word about Camael from now on. His name is to be banned from all of your conversations while waiting for his punishment."

I share a meaningful glance with Ephra, then turn to Anael. "Do we know what has become of Cain?"

Anael rolls his eyes resignedly.

"And here I was hoping no one would ask about him. Cain disappeared. Forever. Camael used a sigil that hides him from both Angels and demons."

Ephra narrows his eyes. "Is it the one Gabriel referred to during the trial?"

"The very same."

"At least tell us if Camael could have a chance to get away with just rehabilitation and eventually be reinstated into the Garrison!"

"SILENCE!"

Everyone but Miz jumps, and we all stare at our General in stupor.

"Let me make this clear," he hisses threateningly. "Next one I hear uttering Camael's name will be sent straight to rehabilitation. And take it from me, you won't enjoy it."

He only gets a respectful silence in return. Anael eyes us coldly as to make sure none of us will dare defy him.

"Now," he continues. "As I was saying, the Garrison has suffered great loss. Which brings me to the reason our three brothers are standing behind me."

Anael motions to them to come closer.

"The hierarchy agreed to compensate for our losses in the long term. We will be assigned new recruits within a few hundred years when everything is in order administratively. Considering that the Garrison lost five soldiers since it was created, and the enormous amount of work awaiting us, a temporary solution has been decided. You already know Balthazar…"

The General gestures at the Angel who winks at us.

"… Please welcome him as one of us. He is now officially part of the Garrison, but his primary mission regarding the human vessels remains his priority. He has been chosen to join us, because his mission is directly linked to ours and we could only benefit from our mutual collaboration."

"So now we're stuck with Balthazar!?" Siosp huffs in annoyance. "Why of all Angels did it have to be him?"

"Stop bickering! Let me remind you that you are _God's Warriors!_ We ALL serve Heaven, I won’t hear of any squabble between divisions and you better not bring shame on the Garrison!!"

Siosp and Balthazar share a look – furious for Siosp, playful for Balthazar – while Anael turns to introduce the two other Angels.

"Hester and Virgil are from the division in charge of terrestrial animals, they will occasionally help in our mission until we get our new recruits."

Both Angels’ eyes are gray and pale as they stare unblinkingly in the distance, their posture perfectly still. I wonder if there is something in our behavior that differs from the other divisions. Are we causing trouble for Anael with the hierarchy? No doubt that he’s been held responsible for Camael’s rebellion…

Balthazar, Hester and Virgil join us around the table, taking the vacant seats of our brothers killed in action. Anael sits down as well, slowly folding his hands on the table.

"I am sure you are aware that Humans nearly went extinct for good. There's only about a hundred of them still alive all around the world. Lucifer's plan was to kill them all, collect and lock their souls in Hell to turn them into demons so we wouldn't be able to bring them back to life. As you have seen, millions of souls are currently wandering all over the surface of the planet. As a reward to Michael for setting him free, Death is granting us a year. One year to the day during which none of his Reapers will collect souls, during which we will be free to resurrect as many Humans as we can. We are few and the task is complex, but if we work hard we can make it. I will give you a list of priority souls to resurrect. For this reconstruction mission we will need to work hand in hand with the other divisions. The entire planet has to be revived."

Wings twitching, Siosp is leaning forward with bright eyes as he listens intently to our General’s words.

"Moreover, we will have to erase their most recent memories. We don't want them to fear us or even know we exist. Ten of you will be in charge of the resurrections and will erase the memories, while the others will rebuild their habitations and make sure they go back to their previous lives like the Apocalypse never happened at all. If my estimations are correct, each one of you should be able to bring back to life at least a hundred Humans a day."

"May I have the permission to handle the resurrections in my sector first? I know everything about every single Human who lived there, as well as their organization, architecture –"

"Permission granted, Siosp. I know how much you value your primary mission. But you'll join the others as soon as your task there is completed."

Beaming, Siosp nods eagerly.

"Last thing before we close this meeting, I officially announce that Castiel's punishment has been lifted. The Archangels cleared his name, since the recent events proved Camael was the only one to blame. You will no longer need to keep a watch on him from now on. Castiel, you will supervise Hester for this year of resurrection work. Uriel, you'll be in charge of Virgil. Let's get to work, starting now! Go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, march 8th)
> 
> _"Who are we to decide who gets to live and who doesn’t?"_
> 
> _"Angels, Castiel. We are the arm of the Lord and agents of Destiny."_


	15. A year to save Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** The failed Apocalypse has devastated the Earth. Camael attacked Castiel who had just wiped him from Cain's memory, but eventually surrendered himself after performing a spell on Cain, hiding him from the eyes of Angels and demons. Balthazar has officially joined the Garrison. They were ordered to resurrect the Humans in just one year, with the help of Hester and Virgil.

_-Day 1-_

Resurrection requires precision and focus, but overall isn't that complicated. The technicalities are part of the knowledge I was created with in order to fulfill my mission. All the information needed is infused within the soul, all there is to do is to apply it. Under normal circumstances I would take the time to refine my work, but at a rate of a hundred resurrections a day, I can't afford to give attention to detail.

A blast of energy blows the ashes from the ground as I make the soul merge with its newly restored body. I brought the Human back to life just like he was a few hours before he died, with the same physical imperfections, an exact replica to the cell. Bewildered, he is frantically looking around at the vast gray lands stretching to the skyline. All the Angels currently working on Earth are invisible to mortal eyes to spare the Humans from being wounded at our mere sight. I brush against the soul and erase the memories of demons, fire, screams and visceral fear he went through.

By my side, Hester is bringing another one to life with a powerful blast that throws an ash cloud over my freshly resurrected Human – who then starts coughing. Since he has not been created for that purpose, Hester is having a hard time keeping up with the pace. For one Human he resurrects, I already did three.

On the ground there are now about fifty Humans staring wide-eyed at everyone resurrecting out of thin air – some of them are prostrating themselves, trembling, tearing their hair out, screaming or passing out, while others are communicating with one another in a panic. There are a few of them who just stand there in silent amazement. But all of them without exception are trying to hide their reproductive organs. For a brief moment, I think back to Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, naked and carefree.

This mass hysteria is puzzling. I understand it must be surprising for them to suddenly appear in a devastated landscape with no recollection of what happened to them, but is that a valid enough reason to be so dramatic?

A rustling of feathers behind me, and then Rachel’s voice rises.

"Castiel. Hester. You would make it easier for us if you could just resurrect them _with_ clothes on. Let me remind you that Humans don’t like being naked – except for breeding purposes – and have a tendency to panic."

"I understand," I nod at him. "We will make sure to clothe them from now on."

That shouldn't be too hard. I reach out to the Human I just brought back to life, and add a brown tunic on him as I alter his memories once again. Rachel and Ephra’s team will take care of the rest and work out the details. The year ahead promises to be filled with quite a lot of memory erasing for the Humans.

Rachel nods stiffly and flies away while I’m clothing all the others.

"Clothes…" Hester’s voice is filled with contempt. This is the first time I hear him say a word. He seems disgruntled. "Animals don’t need clothes. These Humans really are degenerated."

He doesn’t even spare me a glance as he irritably makes clothes appear on his Human.

I don’t find it necessary to make a comment, so I just reach out to the next soul written on the priority list Anael passed on. Legions of invisible Angels are roaming the gray sky, and there are trees growing on a mountain far away in the skyline.

* * *

_-Day 2-_

As soon as Hester’s fingers brought the young woman back to life, she collapses, screaming on the ground, clawing at her hollow eye sockets streaming with blood. Terrified, the other Humans hurriedly move away from her.

I interrupt my work to walk toward my brother. "Hester…"

"I know," he snarls.

"You picked a fragment of her timeline that was too recent, you should have–"

Hester’s eyes dart to me, filled with sheer hatred. The woman is writhing in pain on the ground, her voice breaking with sobs as she digs her nails into the skin on her skull, ripping off the scalp.

"I _know!_" Hester hisses at me.

There is a clear tension in the air, while the harrowing screams keep rising to the sky – now dark blood is running down her face and arms. I tilt my head in confusion. Why is he so angry at me? I don’t think I did anything to deserve such hostility. All I have done for the last two days is bringing Humans back from the dead without ever speaking to him.

Finally, Hester touches the woman to fix the damages, but with so much distaste it shows into the swirling of his Grace. She passes out, lying inert on the ashes. Silence falls all around us and I relax a little. Watching her suffering was unpleasant.

"Don’t you dare speak to me again," Hester says in a cold voice.

That’s fine with me. This mission doesn’t require talking. So I just ignore him and we both go back to work in silence.

* * *

_-Day 7-_

Hester stills with a soul in his hand, gaze sharpening on a silver fox hopping around in the ashes. The setting sun is glowing red in the horizon, casting warm colors in the desolate landscape. The animal grinds to a halt and cocks its head up as if to size us up, wet snout quivering in the air, and ears parked up. Its soft fur is infused with warm purple shades. Then, it seems to lose interest and goes back to hopping off.

Hester follows it with his eyes for a while, wings tensing up behind his back, then vacantly returns to work.

* * *

_-Day 14-_

Dark skin is forming over muscles, fat and veins, and hemp yarns are weaving to cover this body I’m rebuilding. I put the Human down on the ground just when his eyes snap open and he takes a deep breath. His hair, eyelashes and beard are growing back to their length just before the Apocalypse when pure white light flows all around, followed by wings flapping just before me. I straighten my back to face the Archangel Michael who is staring down at me with copper-colored eyes. Hester interrupted his work as well and is throwing us an inquiring look.

"Castiel. Come with me."

And just like that, the Archangel flies off, he powerful blast of air blowing ashes from the ground miles around, and tackling down every Human we brought back to life these last days. I am quick to spread my wings and propel myself high to the sky above. I rush straight to the skyline, flying as fast as I can to not lose sight of the Archangel’s mighty winged figure. Wind is whistling between my feathers as I slice through the air. Hester is under my supervision and I shouldn’t leave him on his own, but an order from an Archangel trumps an order from the General. No question asked.

Michael doesn’t fly very far away: he makes a smooth landing in the middle of the ocean, his bright reflection outshining the sun. I come down on the water surface too, barely troubling it with the tip of my claws. The glimmering ocean is stretching as far as I can see, its deep blue melting into the sky in the distance. Michael folds his wings behind his back and looks at me unblinkingly, towering over me. Head thrown back to stare back, I patiently wait for orders.

"I read Anael’s report. It didn’t mention anywhere the mission involving Cain I gave you."

"This is normal, considering I told no one about it."

Michael tilts his head and narrows his copper-colored eyes – he seems surprised.

"Really? And why not?"

"No one asked."

The Archangel blinks, bending down to peer right into my eyes as if to probe my mind and bore into the depths of my inner thoughts. There is something strangely wistful and sad about the way he’s observing me.

"What a peculiar thing you are."

I don’t know how to answer. Was that a compliment or a reproach?

I stand stiff and silent, waiting for him to get to the point. It is obvious he brought me all the way here to give me an order. So I’m waiting for my order.

"Did you succeed in erasing Cain’s memories before he disappeared?"

"Only those involving Camael. I was interrupted before I could create a whole new past for him."

"I could explore a few of his memories myself, but only superficially. So tell me: was Camael under the influence of the Mother of All?"

Here we are. This is about Camael's punishment. Or could it be a twisted way to test my loyalty? This is a direct question, I can only obey.

"The Mother of All never acted through Cain. Camael acted on his own accord."

"That’s what I thought."

Michael’s gaze hardens. I refrain from asking what will become of my brother. In a silent prayer, I beg my Father to be merciful and send Camael to rehabilitation for a few millennia if necessary instead of executing him.

"I’ll ask you to never tell a word to any of your brothers about it," Michael says more authoritatively. "_Ever_. If anyone asks you, you’ll say that Camael was manipulated by the Mother of All. If word gets out that Camael chose Cain over his duty, over _God_, that might give ideas to some Angels and bring chaos. Heaven has suffered enough rebellions as it is."

"I understand."

Michael looks at me for a few seconds more. I don’t know what he reads in my eyes, but he seems to be satisfied with it and his Grace brightens.

"Good. Now go back to your station. And we never had this conversation."

He flies away and disappears into the infinite sky while I hastily beat my wings to go back to my mission.

Hester is crouching, staring intently at something on the ground when I land at his side. He throws a glance at me and stands up to grab a soul. Somehow, I am quite certain he hasn’t done any resurrecting work while I was away.

"What did Michael want?" he asks with feigned nonchalance.

"I thought you said you never wanted me to speak to you again, Hester."

He shoots me a glare and turns his back on me, his Grace swirling wildly with anger. So be it. He is free to get upset for no reason if that’s what he wants. I don’t care as long as he carries out the mission.

Down on the ground, I notice about thirty red squirrels in the branches of the trees, that weren’t there when I left, I’m sure of it.

Indeed, Hester does need my supervision.

* * *

_-Day 25-_

The secret is to stick with a pace and be very systematic about it. First, check the list of priority souls, then grab about a dozen of them to secure in one hand. Take one aside. Wrap my Grace around it. Apply its genetic code combined with the lived years to generate bones, flesh and skin. Add clothes matching the last memories. Erase any recollection of the last hours before they died. All of this while keeping an eye on Hester. Sometimes I catch him glowering at me, and more than once he seemed about to say something, before holding it back by tightening his wings behind his back.

Anael's voice is transmitting us the daily report on our progress, invariably encouraging us to speed up the pace to meet the objectives.

We already brought back to life every priority Human on our area, and moved north. The plants division has obviously been working around here. Ashes gave way to green meadows, and leafy trees are thriving in the fresh spring air. Souls are swarming here: there used to be a large city in Zedekiel's sector.

I promptly grab a bunch of them and Hester unenthusiastically does the same.

* * *

_-Day 88-_

As I'm resurrecting my 62th soul of the day with the usual blast of energy it entails, the loud sound of wings clapping rises all around. I look up to realize that we are surrounded by about a hundred Angels glaring at us both.

"You're impeding our mission," one of them snarls, walking toward me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

With a tilt of the head, the Angel narrows his pale green eyes that could pass for white.

"Your constant resurrecting is throwing down the trees we worked so hard to grow! And the Humans you're bringing back are cutting and burning the ones you haven't destroyed yet!"

I'm not empowered to deal with this kind of situation. Let's call the General.

** _Anael, I am _ ** ** _caught _ ** ** _in what you would call a « squabble between divisions ». Which is wasting our time and keeping us from our resurrection duty._ **

"He's got a point," Hester chimes in arrogantly, crossing his arms.

Now he's starting to annoy me. That comment really was unnecessary.

**_I'm on my way. Try not to say anything that could make things worse,_** Anael says, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Just when we thought we would finally get rid of these festering overpopulation of Humans!" another soldier complains. "A few hundreds were fine, but millions?! They keep fornicating and proliferating like rabbits!"

"Don't compare rabbits to that hairless vermin," Hester objects. "They're not nearly as dangerous and we made sure to regulate their population with an appropriate number of predators."

"True. That was a bad choice of words. My apologies."

"Accepted."

"That's precisely the problem with those apes," the green-eyed Angel scoffs. "We were fine with their existence until they climbed to the top of the food chain. If no measures are taken, the day will come when there will be _billions_ of them swarming about! Who's going to control their growth now, if not for us?"

Hester fervently nods.

"_Exactly!_ Thank you! That's what I've been saying for centuries! The sole response I've been given was to be sent on resurrection duty with the Garrison... Humans pose a real hazard that the higher chain of command won't be able to ignore forever!"

I've never been more relieved to see Anael flying high in the sky and diving straight to us. His gaze sharpens on the pale-eyed Angel when his claws hit the ground and he irritably folds his wings.

"Brap," our General says in an icy cold tone. "I was hoping I'd not see you again so soon."

"Anael," the Angel retorts just as coldly. "The displeasure is all mine."

"May I ask why are you keeping my soldiers from accomplishing the mission _God_ gave them?"

"Oh but you may, by all means. Your soldiers are destroying our work and hindering _our_ priority mission, mot to mention how loathsome and arrogant they're acting."

"How so?"

Brap gestures wildly at the trees that have been thrown on the ground by every powerful blast that inevitably comes with a resurrection.

"Do you even realize that plants and trees are sensitive, subtle and complex living beings? Our work is _art_, Anael. Your useless soldiers and the degenerate apes they keep resurrecting are ruining everything!"

Anael is staring intently at Brap, as if he could pierce through him with just a thought.

"We've had this pointless conversation a hundred times before, Brap."

"Our division is older and more important than your blasted Garrison! We were here long before you were created, so stop looking down on us just because for some obscure reason God wanted us all to bow before your little playthings!"

Hester is watching the scene with great interest while Anael is closing his fists in anger.

"I refuse to engage on this matter anymore. We both know how it ended last time. All decisions regarding Humanity are taken by the hierarchy, and at our level we must strive to work _together_. So let's compromise: I suggest that my soldiers choose one single location by area where they will proceed to the resurrections. Preferably a place without trees around."

Brap narrows his eyes and swiftly brings his face closer to Anael's.

"Fine," he hisses at the General. "I cannot wait for the day the hierarchy gives the order to wipe your degenerate apes off the planet. Oh, I will happily comply, and believe me, Anael, I won't be the only one."

Anael silently glowers at him, watching him fly away with his soldiers until they disappear into the skyline.

"You heard the new instructions. I will inform the others. Get back to work."

And without further notice, he snaps his wings open and flies away too. Hester shoots me a scornful look and snatches a soul out of the air.

* * *

_-Day 112-_

The moon is full, and the valley where we carry out the resurrections has become a crater that keeps widening. More than a hundred distraught Humans are wandering about and staring in disbelief as more of them keep appearing on a regular basis. Ephra and Rachel will soon come to harvest and sort them out before erasing their memory once more.

"Maybe we should make them sleep until our brothers come and collect them," I say, watching the Humans panicking and communicating on the ground.

Hester's feathers bristle and his gaze sharpens on me.

"You soldiers from the Garrison should stop coddling these creatures. A little bit of panic won't hurt them all that much. Don't you think animals felt panic too, when they were burned alive to save your precious little monkeys from Lucifer?"

"I'm just saying that from a practical point of view, it would keep Rachel and Ephra from needing to erase their memory again, which could save us all a lot of time."

Hester narrows his pale gray eyes and draws closer to me. His Grace is fiercely whirling, boiling with blue bubbles.

"Do you think I don't know what happens in the Garrison, Castiel? Rumors are spreading fast, every Angel in Heaven knows that your General has been sent to rehabilitation for trying to bring Adam and Eve back to their parents. I have been told Camael rebelled for Cain and contaminated Gabriel with his madness. You would all stand idle and watch as Humans destroy the Creation, the lot of you!"

I can't help my eyes from widening. I had never known the actual reason for Anael's punishment. Now this would explain why I've been ordered to erase the memory of Adam and Eve's parents.

However, Hester's accusation is offensive. I'm not like Camael. I'm a good soldier. God is my only master and all my devotion and prayers are directed at Him and to Him only.

"You're wrong, Hester."

"Oh, am I now? You all are worshiping Humans, it's disgusting! I was opposed to the creation of the Garrison, you know? Well, time has proved me right!"

"I'm not a-"

"And do you enjoy watching them torture animals?! I don't care that they eat them, that's just the natural cycle of life. I can even accept that they enslave horses and cows... but the goat! The _goat!_ Now this is going too far! Do you have any idea how widely your despicable joke has spread? Us soldiers from the division in charge of land animals can't even exchange two words with other sections without everyone _systematically _bringing up the goat! No matter what the conversation is about, it always comes down to goats! Ah ah ah, so very funny, isn't it?!"

I can't help my Grace from swirling in amusement at this memory. It is a very good memory.

"That was a joke from Uriel. And even you have to admit that it is kind of funny."

Hester's feathers are now ruffled and his eyes are positively murderous. He dramatically whirls around and grabs a soul into his clenched fist, back to ignoring me.

"I don't even like Humans, Hester." I look down to the human body I'm rebuilding. "I'm only following orders."

Still offended, he shoots me a glare.

"Oh really?"

"They are, like the ocean, the moon or the animals, our Father's work of art. As such, I admire them in the same way I admire the ochered light in the clouds when the sun is sinking into the skyline, or the sound of the wind whistling through the leaves. However…"

The soul is glowing brightly in the palm of my hand. With time, my pain has faded, but its blade is still sharp enough to make my Grace shiver any time my thoughts venture to the past.

"… they played a part in making the other human species disappear, including the one I..."

I can't bring myself to complete my words.

"Oh."

Hester stays silent for a moment, the feathers on his wings slowly deflating.

"I remember now. There were rumors back then about an Angel from the Garrison that Raphael was keeping a close eye on. So that was you."

I look up to meet his gaze.

"What are you talking about? I've never been under surveillance until Adam and Eve died and I went to trial."

Hester's gray eyes soften.

"Many believed that you would rebel like Zachariah did. Your General and Raphael were ready to send you to rehabilitation at the first sign of disobedience."

I stare in shock as he stretches a wing to brush against my shoulder with the tip of his feathers.

"Forgive me, Castiel. I misjudged you. You're a good soldier."

I choose to remain silent as he withdraws his wing.

"You were unfortunate to have been created to watch over God’s most destructive and appalling creations. I don't envy you, Castiel. Your place should have been in my division."

Down on the ground, a woman is sobbing tears of relief, holding against her chest a child I brought back to life earlier.

* * *

_-Day 170-_

Hester's mood visibly improved since our last talk, and he's getting almost pleasant with me. He even listens to my advices on how to proceed more efficiently with resurrection. But it is quite obvious that he's still very reluctant at the very idea of bringing Humans back to life.

"This punishment is unfair," he’s complaining again as he often does. "Especially since my brothers have _millions_ of different species to bring back. Removing two soldiers from our division when there is so much work to do, it's really..."

He groans and lets his sentence unfinished.

"The Garrison's mission comes first," I say as I carefully rebuild veins in the uncompleted human body lying limply on the palm of my hand. "Death only gave us a year before the souls are taken away. Animals don't have a soul, they can wait."

Hester snarls, dark thundering clouds start gathering in the sky, and suddenly he's right in front of me, grabbing the back of my head in a tight grip. Three stormy gray orbs are glaring at me as I cautiously close my hand around my unfinished work to protect it.

"_Again_ with the souls!" he hisses, narrowing his eyes. "I'm so sick of this failed experiment being glorified! These souls are an offense to nature and should never have existed in the first place! Every living being, including us, must return to the essence of Creation after dying! This is the rightful cycle of life, and these hairless apes are violating the laws of nature, cheating death by surviving through their soul, be it in Hell, Heaven or Purgatory! I can't stand such _arrogance_!"

He spat that word just when I was reaching back to pull his fingers off my skull. I never considered the question before, but now that Hester is mentioning it, I kind of agree with him. Why would God want to stockpile human souls and offer them eternal peace in Heaven or endless torment in Hell? Why should Humans deserve it more than other animals? And what about _us_?

No. We are the Warriors of the Lord. The sole purpose for our creation, the only reason we exist in the first place is to obey orders. Why would we keep existing if we're no longer able to do that?

"God created souls, Hester. It isn't our place to judge His decisions. For He is great and His plan is just. We don't need to understand what He wants to serve Him. You just have to have Faith."

Hester withdraws his hand, eyes softening as he lowers them.

"You're right," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I overstepped. The Lord works in mysterious ways, I know that."

Crisis averted.

"Your brothers in arms will do just fine bringing animals back to life on their own. How many soldiers are there in your division?"

"About one hundred thousand."

I stare wide-eyed.

"One hundred _thousand_?"

"Yes." He is now beaming with pride. "More than two hundred thousand, if you're counting Cherubs. My division is one of the most important ones. If you gathered all divisions in charge of some kind of life form on Earth, that would be around five hundred thousand Angels. You soldiers of the Garrison have only been created to watch over God’s newest little experiment on animals endowed with a soul. That’s why for centuries no one bothered to name your group, and over time, the generic title of _Garrison_ stayed. Technically, you’re not even a full division on your own, barely a lower unit of _my_ division. There’s a reason for your small number, you know. A failed experiment, as I said. Who would have thought your crawling fish would evolve, multiply and become so problematic?"

My mind is numb. Anael requested for our workforce to be increased, in the aftermath of the Apocalypse. How many new soldiers other than Balthazar are going to be assigned to our Mission? Now that Humans are gaining prominence in the Creation, is the Garrison going to be upgraded to an actual division? As important as the division in charge of land animals?

How many of us will there be eventually? Hundreds? Thousands?

* * *

_-Day 237-_

All the Humans listed have been resurrected in this area – Levanael's former sector. There are many souls still floating around us though, and Hester chases them away with a wave of the hand. Those souls are non-priority and won't be taken care of unless these is time left once we crossed all the names off the list. The souls that have not been handled by the end of the year will be harvested by Death.

We're reaching the end of the list, it should be all done in a few weeks or so. But the end of our one-year deadline is drawing nearer, and it's starting to be clear with every passing day that the non-priority Humans won't be all saved.

Ephra and Rachel did a very good job. Levanael's city is identical to what it used to be before the Apocalypse, even if it is less crowded now. Humans are behaving normally, carrying goods, feeding, drinking, mating in the shade of their houses. The only difference is that none of them can die until the end of the year Death granted us.

They don't remember dying, neither wandering as souls in a devastated planet, nor how Angels look like. And they don't realize that Earth is currently in effervescence, battalions of busy Angels roaming over the lands and mountains. Glowing bright and hovering on the horizon, the Plant division is negotiating with the Water division about one of our craters: they can't seem to agree on whether it should be made into a lake or filled with soil and covered with plants.

A rustling of feathers interrupts our work, and we turn around to face Samandriel, the Angel of Fertility, who just made a smooth landing. There's a gleam of joy in his green eyes infused with silver flakes.

"Hello Castiel, hello Hester."

I notice hundreds of low-ranked Cherubs in the distance, crouching to brush against all Humans and animals in the area, one by one. Samandriel is probably here to supervise their work.

"Hello Samandriel," Hester says.

I offer a silent nod in greetings.

"I ran into your division earlier, Hester. They told me about your redeployment and decided to wait for you to bring back to life your favorite species."

Hester's Grace brightens with joy.

"Thank you. I see you're quite busy."

"I am," Samandriel nods. "I've been ordered to facilitate population growth, especially for rare species of animals and Humans who have been chosen to become our vessels in the future."

This is only the second time that our paths cross, since the trial when he proved Camael innocent. The tone of his voice is warm. Soothing.

He fixes his eyes on my face.

"I was saddened to hear that Camael made an attempt on your life. I would never have expected that from him. I hope he will repent and get back on the right path."

News certainly travel fast.

"Thank you."

I'm not entirely sure that was the right thing to say.

"I have to move on to the next area," the Angel of Fertility says with a hand gesture, before spreading his wings and flying high up in the sky. The swarm of Cherubs immediately follows him to the skyline, fast as lightning. Hester follows them with his eyes until they disappear away.

"Did you know that Samandriel is the very last Angel our Father created?" There is a hint of fondness in his voice. "He is our youngest brother."

I didn't know that, although Hester doesn't seem to be expecting an answer. His gaze is unfocused and lost in the distance, farther than the skyline.

"Our work is done here." My voice snaps it out of him. "Let's move to the East."

His head turns to stare at me sharply.

"Wait a second, Castiel... Did I hear that right earlier? Camael tried to _kill_ you?"

"You did hear correctly. He was manipulated by the Mother of All through Cain."

Obeying to the order Michael personally gave me is a source of great pride. The Archangel has been assigning me a secret mission twice now.

"I had no idea..." Hester murmurs thoughtfully.

* * *

_-Day 239-_

"Hester..."

"Yes?"

"Your division existed before Humans and the Garrison were created..."

Hester puts down on the ground the sleeping Human he just brought back to life, and turns his head to look at me bemusedly.

"Indeed. So what?"

I glance down at the soul I’m cradling in my hand, faltering for a split second. Lucifer’s words keep coming back to me, clear as daylight.

"How was it... _before?_"

Hester froze. He’s staring at me intently, head tilting to the side.

"It was perfect." His voice was barely above a whisper, I nearly didn’t catch it. His Grace is glowing wistfully as he closes his eyes. "_Perfect_..."

The word dissolves into the warm air of late summer.

* * *

_-Day 243-_

Crouching down over a sleeping little girl I just brought back to life, I take a dip into her mind. She hasn’t been living for a long time, but yet there’s a lot of love in her memories, a lot of trust and hope. Once I’ve erased everything she remembered about the brutal way she died, I add some clothes on her body, and upon reflection I also materialize in her arms her rag doll that had burned to ashes during the Apocalypse.

Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Hester staring at me unblinkingly. But he averts his gaze when I look up, focusing his attention on a mountain instead as though that was the most fascinating thing he has ever seen.

* * *

_-Day 302-_

Mission accomplished. At last, every single soul written on the list has been resurrected. My brothers’ voices are whispering their reports into my head. Anael is congratulating us, and then he promptly orders us to now save as many non priority Humans as we can.

There’s no time to waste. I grab one of the wandering souls we’ve been neglecting for months, and start reconstructing the body right away. By my side, Hester glances at me bemusedly.

"How should we select the non priority Humans to bring back to life?"

"What do you mean?"

Hester reaches out and snatches a dozen souls in his hand.

"We won’t be able to bring all of them back. We're running out of time. Is your intention to resurrect them randomly? Shouldn’t we choose only those who _deserve_ to live?"

I cease my resurrection in progress and look down at the soul I was about to grant a new life to. It is a feeblish man suffering from a genetic abnormality in his aorta. He won’t get to live long. Maybe resurrecting him is indeed a waste of time and energy?

Hester is coldly sorting out the souls in the palm of his hand, one by one.

"This one has beaten a dog to death because it bit his daughter. But the whiny little brat had it coming, she pulled its tail, the dog just reacted instinctively. I see no reason why I should bring back this monster to life. As for that one, the way he treats his own offspring is disgusting. Why should he be given a second chance? Oh, this one treats animals with a lot of respect and tenderness. I will definitely resurrect her."

I thoughtfully let go of the soul I had been about to work on.

"This is a rather complex question you’re raising, Hester. Who are we to decide who gets to live and who doesn’t?"

"Angels, Castiel. We are the arm of the Lord and agents of Destiny. These Humans are expandable, no instruction has been given, so why not act according to what we believe is fair? And resurrect only those pure of heart?"

Hester’s got a point there.

"You're right," I say with a nod.

A rustling of feathers behind us makes us turn around to face Balthazar as he nonchalantly folds his wings back.

"I, for one, favor the aesthetic side in them," he says pompously.

Obviously he heard our conversation.

"The _aesthetic_ side?" Hester repeats with clear disgust.

"Indeed. Have you taken a close look at them? Most Humans are very ugly, of course, but there are a few rare ones that are quite pleasant to look at. I’m in charge of selecting the human bloodlines that will become some day our vessels, and I make it a point to wipe the ugly ones from the list. When the day comes, I’d like to possess a drop dead gorgeous Human, thank you very much."

Hester rolls his eyes with a repulsed groan.

"What are you doing here, Balthazar? We have work to do, and time is running out."

"Oh, take it easy, Cassy… Why are you Garrison soldiers so stuck up? You should consider pulling out the stick out of your butt sometimes."

"We don’t have butts."

"Oh, come on. You know exactly what I mean, don’t play dumb with me."

"That’s not the point, Balthazar. We have a mission to carry out. Why are you here?"

Balthazar shrugs.

"Just taking a stroll around. The late autumn breeze is quite pleasant, and you’re missing out by staying here. There are a lot of things currently happening on Earth and in Heaven. Did you know they’re forging weapons and holy trinkets in the firmament as we speak?"

"There isn’t much time left to accomplish our mission, we can’t afford idle chatting. Let's go back to work."

"Oh, dearest Cassy, what a party pooper you are. We did resurrect all the Humans on the list, I believe we deserve a day off, don’t you think? Non-priority souls can wait. Tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t on the list, it means no one cares about them. Including God."

He gives a pat on my shoulder as I struggle to find words to argue.

"Maybe. But still, we need to obey orders. Orders are orders."

Balthazar snickers and Hester rolls his eyes at me. Offended, I turn around to grab a handful of souls.

"I’ll leave you lovebirds to it then, I’m going to go and annoy Siosp. I can’t get enough of it."

Hester gives a startled yelp as Balthazar flies away. I stare down at the souls and select children’s ones, pure and innocent, as well as every soul I can find radiating with maternal or paternal love.

* * *

_-Day 365-_

** _It is over, time is up_****_. _ ** ** _Stop the resurrections_****_._ **

I immediately let go of the soul I was about to bring back to life. Hester stiffens by my side.

Earth is wrapped in a mantle of snow smothering colors and smoothing the landscape under the bright gray sky. The sun is rising on a white world of silence where snowflakes are whirling down among wandering souls. Suddenly, blurry white shadows emerge out of nowhere and swoop down on those thousands of souls we couldn’t save. The Reapers are moving fast, snatching them one by one.

When I turn my head toward Hester, he’s looking at me with a smile in his eyes.

**_Hester _****_and_****_ Virgil, _****_you may go back to your _****_division. _****_**We will call upon you should**_** **_**we**_** **_**need you again.**_**

His wing is brushing against my shoulder with fondness.

"Being around you for a year has been less tedious than I expected. Thank you."

I remain silent while Hester spreads his wings and flies away. He vanishes into the skyline just when the Reapers are taking away the last souls. There’s nothing left.

Nothing but this vast icy landscape and snow falling quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, march 15th)
> 
> _"With a few exceptions, female Humans are treated like cattle. They belong to their father, husband or sons, and they’re not allowed to speak out without a male’s agreement. Humans won’t listen to the Word of God if it comes out of a woman’s mouth."_
> 
> _"Exactly, they all value penis so highly! To be honest, I won’t be surprised if they ever start worshiping penises at some point…"_


	16. Yaël

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** The aborted Apocalypse has ravaged the Earth. The Garrison resurrected the Humans in one year, but couldn't bring them all back. Camael is in solitary confinement awaiting his punishment, and Balthazar is now officially part of the Garrison.

"Five centuries have passed since the Apocalypse."

Our General's voice sounds more solemn than usual in the meeting room, and his gaze more piercing.

"I have an announcement of the utmost importance to make. But first, I would like to congratulate all of you for your excellent work. Your resurrections were successful, even though some of their memories remained anchored into their subconscious, which explains why they're now developing some kind of cult around us and an inaccurate idea of God. They seem to think of us as human-shaped, with long hair, a halo and white dresses. They couldn't possibly be farther from the truth, but at least they got the wings part right."

Anael doesn't hide his amusement when Uriel laughs out loud.

I did notice a turning point in the Humans' beliefs and superstitions. They used to worship the sun, the moon, the rain and earth. But the Apocalypse carved the fear of a superior being into their collective unconscious, even if we erased it from their memories.

"The Sisters managed to adapt their projects to the inconvenient disappearance of Adam and Eve." Anael crosses his arms. "Cain's bloodline will take the destiny of Seth's since he was never born. Everything is planned for the next millennia, the reproduction process and births are closely monitored by Balthazar and the Cherubs. Nothing is left to chance." His eyes narrow into green slits. "Anyway. As you know, the Mother of Monster – or the Mother of All like some of us call her – is still running free and sowing her poisoned creatures all around. We have not been able to locate her yet, her creations are multiplying and turning Humans into monsters at an alarming rate. In a few hundred years there won't be any Human left on Earth if this goes on. Moreover, the souls of monsters escape Reapers when they die and get sucked into Purgatory. With each monster created the Mother of All becomes stronger."

"Well," Siosp quipped, "there's none in my sector."

The General's wings tighten behind his back.

"I've told you a thousand times, Siosp,_ there are no sectors anymore_. And something tells me that you've got a lot to do with this absence of monsters. That's a bad habit of yours. We can't act like we did in time of war, we're back on our observation mission now. Have you forgotten?"

Siosp tilts his head innocently and Levanael throws a concerned glance at him.

"I didn't act directly. I killed no monster, even though I do think these orders are nonsense. I simply dissuaded them to step into _my sector_. I don't like my work to be ruined."

A hint of annoyance flashes through Anael's eyes, promptly replaced with pity.

"Then you won't like what I'm going to say." He stays silent for a moment, Grace glowing bright with cold resolve. "God commands a Flood in order to get rid of all degenerate creatures. Earth will be drowned in a mighty downpour that will wipe out all life forms. Our mission is to save only those who have been chosen: Cain's descendants, the lineages for our future vessels, and a significant number of ordinary Humans selected for their physical and mental qualities to avoid incest when repopulation begins. All in all, this represents approximately three thousand Humans."

"Another Apocalypse?" Balthazar rolls his eyes. "Nobody's interested in a rehash. At this rate, we'll end up throwing an Apocalypse every time a Human sneezes."

"Yes, but it was about time the hierarchy took the decision to act!" Uriel says excitedly. "I was itching to smite the vermin swarming about before our eyes!"

Siosp slams a hand on the table and springs to his feet, pushing back Levanael who's trying to hold him down.

"This is ridiculous! I've been requesting for the last centuries to be given free hand to get rid of these creatures by our own means! And now, a _Flood?_"

"Siosp, sit down. Immediately."

The General's voice is ice-cold, but Siosp raises his voice louder still, Grace flaring up. "We resurrected them one by one barely five hundred years ago! Why would we let our hard work be wasted when we could fix the problem without destroying the Earth again? Ask for a year's extension! Just one year, and we will smite every last one of those monsters and find their Mother! Please, Anael!"

"Shut up and sit down, Siosp! That's a direct order!"

Ephra spreads a wing out, brushing against Siosp's back with the tip of his feathers. "Don't make a fuss, Siosp. I know how much you care about your sector, but orders are orders. The chosen Humans will soon repopulate the Earth, there's no reason to-"

Siosp's wings snap open so violently Ephra is thrown back and almost knocked over.

"No... I won't let that happen." His eyes are narrowed into dark angry slits. "I won't allow all we've done, all we've worked for, to be drown under water. And for what? This won't solve the issue with the Mother and her monsters! That order is absurd and you know it!"

"Seize him," the General orders in a flat tone.

Siosp freezes when we all rise to our feet and move to surround him, holding our blade threateningly.

"Our Father did NOT give that order!" Siosp's voice breaks. "He would never do something so cruel and inconsistent, never! This Flood is not the will of God, brothers!"

"Silence," Htmorda snarls. "You're making it worse for yourself."

We move as one, taking hold of the rebel despite of his cries of protest. Once he's held down on the ground by four of us, Anael steps closer and kneels, looking down at him with sad eyes, fingertips brushing against the chiselled curve of his face.

"I figured you might react that way, Siosp," he says in a soft voice. "I hoped you'd prove me wrong. Rehabilitation will help you get rid of these tendencies."

Siosp's eyes widen with pure, unadulterated fear as Anael spreads his wings and takes him away in a rustle of feathers.

We all share a few silent looks, except for Levanael who keeps his hand flat on the ground where he had been pining Siosp's arm down. He closes his eyes and wraps himself with his own wings, building a cocoon of feathers.

Ephra shakes his head while his blade melts back into his Grace. "What an idiot," he mutters. "Why couldn't he just keep quiet for once?"

"Well," Balthazar says, leaning back on his seat, "the Garrison's meetings are wild, I'll give you that!"

* * *

"Let's get started with the basics, shall we?"

Anael nods in agreement, crossing his four arms. With a graceful motion of his hand, Balthazar sprinkles trickles of his Grace in the air, twisting and shaping them into bright diagrams, charts and the long list of chosen Humans. Ephra squints and leans forward to read the standard formulation glorifying the name of God in every line.

"Oh Lord." Zedekiel rolls his clear blue eyes. "I'm getting bored already."

"We don't have much time, Balthazar," Anael says. "Just stick to the minimum required to accomplish the mission."

Balthazar's Grace stops drawing endless glowing equations and statistics tables and the liquid light merges back into his body.

"I'm _so_ disappointed in your lack of curiosity. So be it. First of all, I'd like to reassure our beloved General: the minor inconvenience Michael suffered through won't happen again with my flock. Anael, I selected for you a free-range livestock of 100% human vessels, all healthy, quite open to the idea of a higher power and rather good looking too, which doesn't hurt."

"Physical appearance is irrelevant," Rachel objects. "They're just vessels."

"Oh really? Do you want Humans to think that Angels are unattractive when we make our first official contact? And then have this negative image associated with us for centuries? Especially since Humans are shallow and have a tendency to distrust ugly people, in case you were unaware."

"True," Htmorda nods. "But to be honest, as far as I'm concerned, they all look just the same to me. I couldn't tell an attractive Human from an unattractive one if I tried."

"My thoughts exactly." Uriel huffs. "Viscous fish that have evolved into hairless sweaty apes wading about in the mud. There's nothing beautiful about that."

"Trust me brothers, I have great taste," Balthazar waves them off. "The Humans will sing the praises of our beauty for the rest of eternity, you'll see."

Uriel groans.

"Our purpose isn't to sexually arouse monkeys. Humans should fear and respect us, not be _attracted_ to us."

"Now is not the time to debate over whether or not Humans are beautiful," Anael says exasperatedly. "For our current mission, only I need to use a vessel to talk to Cain’s descendant – Noah – and to hundreds of other chosen Humans all around the world. This is part of my task as a General. Balthazar, carry on. And the rest of you, stop interrupting him."

"Well," Balthazar starts again, "you’ve all seen Michael take control of Cain, so you already know that getting the vessel’s consent is imperative. I did half the work for you for this first time, Anael, since we’re a bit on a rush here. They’re all willing to say yes, so eager to prove their faith and earn our favor, it’s adorable. The poor things would be ready to kill each other to win the competition and get a special place in Heaven after they die. Their life is so short, and yet they manage to get bored somehow. Quite amusing, isn’t it? Next time, every Angel will have to convince his own vessel personally, so remember this: Humans love to think they’re special and unique, and would be ready to do anything for this."

Htmorda tilts his head, wings twitching like he’s restraining himself to comment.

"You have several options to approach them. Dreams are efficient, talking directly to them works too – even though it could slightly tickle their eardrums at first – but the rational part of their brain might lead them to believe this isn’t real, and you know better than anyone how quickly Humans start to panic. I have a few ones who thought they were losing their mind and ended up committing suicide or being murdered by their kin. Such a waste. But I’ll teach you how to « seduce » your own vessel during a training session when the time comes."

"You want us to talk to them directly?" Ephra huffs, his Grace glowing bright. "Our voice won’t just _slightly tickle their eardrums_, they will die on the spot!"

"Don't worry dear, I thought of everything. You see, the blood of these vessels is special, it allows them to hear us to some extent without enduring the pain. Not as well as Adam, Eve and their children could, but still, it’s not insignificant." He starts rubbing his hands together, wings stretching wide. "Enough chattering, my pretties! Follow me so I can show you my livestock!"

The General gives the go ahead with a nod, and we all fly up in the sky after Balthazar. Two seconds later we make a smooth landing in front of a seaside city bursting with life.

"Siosp’s sector…" Levanael breathes out as he folds back his wings.

With a fluid hand gesture, Balthazar points out the city.

"Many generations ago, I placed one or two special bloodlines in every area so they wouldn’t be all gathered in the same spot. This family over there represents twenty livestock units. If there’s one you like, Anael, they’re here for the taking. Don’t pick a child, though, it would be a shame if something happened before they had a chance to reproduce and provide us with the next generation of organic weapons."

Anael takes a step forward and looks down with narrowing eyes at these Humans Balthazar has been going on about for so long. Inside the house there is a woman breast-feeding a baby, all the while sweeping the floor with a broom. In the courtyard, surrounded by chickens, a man is sharpening his ax. A child chasing a bird stumbles and falls on the ground crying. A young man, probably his older brother, walks closer and picks him up.

"Look at the exceptional quality of this bloodline. I’m quite proud of the result, so Samandriel increased the entire family’s fertility at my request. Health, strength, beauty and purity are written in their blood, every drop of which could contain a great amount of energy. What do you think, Anael? Is there anyone you fancy riding?"

Anael doesn’t look convinced. I’m not quite sure myself what’s so exceptional about that couple and their many children. Plain, ordinary Humans like any others. They don’t look different at all.

"All the children they had seem to be male," our General points out.

"Oh but of course. I specifically instructed Samandriel so, given the way we intend to use them."

Anael snaps his face up, green eyes locking with Balthazar’s.

"What do you mean? Why would a male vessel be better qualified than a female one?"

Balthazar holds his gaze for a few seconds, before bursting with laughter.

"What’s so funny, Balthazar?"

He stops laughing and stares bemusedly at the General.

"Please tell me you’re joking."

Anael’s sole response is to glare at him.

"Oh. You're not joking. Have you really been watching Humans all this time? Possessing a woman would be a _very_ bad idea. Oh of course, they’re much more pleasant to look at than men, I’ll give you that! But the reason you need a vessel in the first place is to deliver a message to Humans, and none of them will listen to you if you present as a woman!"

"He's not wrong," Ephra says pointedly. "With a few exceptions, female Humans are treated like cattle. They belong to their father, husband or sons, and they’re not allowed to speak out without a male’s agreement. Humans won’t listen to the Word of God if it comes out of a woman’s mouth."

"Exactly," Balthazar spreads his arms. "They all value penis so highly! To be honest, I won’t be surprised if they ever start worshiping penises at some point…"

Anael’s Grace is swirling and his eyes are darkening.

"Women can bear and give life, they love their children the same way God loves everything He created. They deserve awe and respect, for they’re carrying on the Lord’s work!"

Levanael nods fervently. Balthazar merely rolls his eyes.

"Certainly, my dear, but I’m afraid their males disagree. And we do need them to build the ships. Therefore a male vessel would be much more convenient to get them to listen to you."

Anael narrows his eyes.

"Oh but they will listen. I will _make_ them listen. I’ve decided now: I want a female vessel. That’s an order, Balthazar."

* * *

"Honestly I don't even care that you want a female vessel. What bothers me, though, is that, of all the available vessels you'd set your sights on_ this one_... Let me say, Anael, your taste level is questionable."

At our feet, the young woman is struggling and panting to draw water from the well. She pours it into her jug, then wipes the sweat from her forehead. Her long brown hair is all tangled, and her linen dress covers her pale and clearly malnourished body. Her eyes are sad as she looks up to the sky.

"I can't believe you'd choose this sickly creature with barely any meat on her bones over the gorgeous women with perfect curves and silky hair I'm offering you. She looks just like a drowned rat. You won't impress Noah with _that_."

"Yaël will do just fine," Anael says drily. "And I won't use her body more than a few weeks anyway."

"… Are you there?"

The Human spoke in a wisp of a voice. Still invisible to mortal eyes like all of us, Anael leans forward, towering over the young woman nibbling her lower lip and fidgeting. Her eyes are red and puffy as though she has been crying.

"I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even here, but... I... I would like to..." Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes, putting her hands together as a prayer. "You did not say how I could serve you, but I want... I want to help..."

"Aw." Balthazar's voice is laced with sarcasm. "Isn't she cute."

"What should I do now?" Anael asks. "Reveal myself to her eyes?"

Balthazar shakes his head.

"We're too close to the city, and I can't guarantee that her eyes won't burn out of her head. These little things are so fragile. Just try to talk to her by whispering softly into her reality plane. It's all in the dosing."

The General gives a short nod and starts murmuring to her in the human language that is commonly used in Siosp's sector.

_ **"Yaël... I am an Angel of the Lord. My name is Anael and I need to borrow your body for a few weeks."** _

Her eyes widen upon hearing Anael's voice, and she starts looking around frantically.

"Good work on the flow and volume, but the content is too formal. You have to sugarcoat it, make it sound appealing! I usually dangle rewards, remind them how important the mission is, how the world's fate is at stake, etc. What they need is something to fantasize about, or else they would all decline."

Anael gives him a skeptical look out of the corner of his eye, but carries on:

_ **"There is no point in searching for me, Yaël, for I am invisible. If you agree to let me take control of your body, you will be rewarded in the afterlife beyond your imagination. God will welcome you in His eternal realm."** _

Yaël leans back again the well with her lips pressed together into a thin line, face darkening.

"And will I be rewarded in _this_ life?"

Her eyes dart up to the sky, both scared and brave, and a lone tear rolls down her pale and hollow face.

"My parents want to marry me off to a man in exchange for two goats. Promise me you won't let that happen, and I will do anything you want."

"She's got a nerve!"  Uriel spits.

"Two goats for a scrawny Human?" Rachel laughs. "Obviously the man is losing out on this one!"

Some snickering arise.

"She's a brave one, we have to give her that," Levanael says pointedly.

"And she's not stupid," Ephra nods. "Why do something for free when you can ask for a favor in exchange?"

"Oh come on, Anael, the scrawny Human is playing hard to get now. Forget about her and just pick another one."

But our General plainly and simply ignores Balthazar's advice.

_ **"Granted. You have my word, Yaël."** _

"Then yes."

The young Human takes a hesitant step away from the well, shaking from head to toe. She throws her head back and opens her arms wide.

"Let the spectacle begin! Anael, take a good look at her eyes and her mouth, that's where you'll enter. Focus on the blood running through her veins, and _let go_, it is that simple."

Anael's green eyes zero in on her face as he leans down. And just like it happened for Michael, the outline of his body blurs and his face dissolves into a waterfall of blinding light pouring right into the frail vessel meant to contain him.

The light fades out at last, entirely absorbed into the human body whose eyes flash brightly before receding back to their brown shade. Despite the weak appearance of his vessel, the calm and confident posture is clearly all our General's. Two white wings sprout out of the back and spread wide without casting any shadow. The young Human's face brightens with a hint of a smile, partially concealed behind Anael's face floating like a translucent mask.

"Are you comfortable in there?" Balthazar asks in a velvety voice. "Not too tight?"

The General lifts both his forearms and stares in fascination as he opens and closes his hands.

"I can feel the internal organs, the liquid power of her blood, the soft sensation of wind on the skin..." There is awe in Anael's voice as he spreads out his fingers. "Having only two arms and talking with a mouth is a bit strange, but this body is more than adequate. I can tell I'm both lighter and more powerful."

He runs a hand through his hair to push it back from his face, takes a fistful of locks to squint at them inquisitively, then lets it fall on his shoulder.

"I have a promise to keep. Stay here, I'll be back in a short moment."

And with a rustling of feathers, he's gone. Balthazar’s annoyance is showing in the way his Grace is swirling.

"The Flood is scheduled to happen in a few weeks, so why bother cancelling a wedding when the vast majority of Humankind will soon be drowned anyway?"

"It is a matter of principle," I say. "A promise is a sacred covenant, whether or not a Flood is scheduled."

"They're all about to die, the outcome is the same, so why would he go to the trouble at all? Or should I say... why would _she_ go to the trouble... Is Anael to be referred as a she or as a he, now? She looks more like a _Anna_ in this body, you know? It's confusing. See? One more reason why choosing a male vessel is more convenient. The pronouns are closer to our Enochian genderless equivalent."

"I agree with Anael," Rachel says. "We should grant this honor only to women. Unlike men, they don't butcher their kin or torture animals, and they understand the value of life."

"I have to say, I am astonished by your naivety," Balthazar says with a patronizing air. "I'm aware you're the youngest Angels in Heaven after Samandriel, but honestly you're bordering on stupidity."

"Balthazar is right." Uriel snarls, staring at the nearby city at the lakeshore. From up here, the boats look like insects floating on the water. There is a hard as steel look in his purple eyes. "There is nothing good or pure about them, what they are is _weak_. Females are no better than males. If they weren't oppressed by men and disadvantaged by their physical inferiority, they would be just as cruel as they are. Perhaps even worse." He slowly turns to face us. "All Humans are prone to commit selfish atrocities when they have the power to do so and when they fear no punishment. And then they whine for mercy when faced with stronger opponent."

Levanael narrows his eyes.

"I guess we haven't been watching over the same species for all these millions of years, Uriel. There is good and there is bad in the Humans, and some of them show courage, wisdom, genuine and selfless kindness…"

Miz crosses his arms with a slow blink of eyes as he listens to our brothers argue.

"That's weakness, brother, nothing but weakness. Merely a defense mechanism, a survival strategy set up by powerless beings that need to gain pity and protection, and a way for some powerful ones to ease their guilt or stroke their own ego. That's all it is. Angels are the only sentient beings who don't use their power for selfish purposes."

"Really?" Htmorda snaps. "What about Lucifer, Camael and all the traitors who fell? Were their purposes not selfish?"

"We're not allowed to talk about Camael!" Zedekiel blurts out, throwing nervous glances all around.

Glowering at Htmorda, Uriel aggressively snaps his wings open.

"Lucifer was in the wrong, his actions were misguided, but he didn't act selfishly, he did it for our Father and for us all! As for Camael, he was manipulated by the Mother of All!"

I painstakingly hold back from disagreeing on this point. The Archangel Michael explicitly told me not to tell the truth about Camael's true motivations.

"You sure became more radical since you've been hanging out with Virgil..." Ephra points out grimly. "Camael is-"

"Will you shut up?!" Zedekiel hisses angrily. "We're all going to end up in rehabilitation because of your pointless debate!"

"Especially since _she_ could come back any moment now." Balthazar chuckles. "If you do end up in rehabilitation, be a dear and tell me what it looks like. I've never been able to get any information about what really happens behind that door..."

"Keep it up and you might take a look inside yourself."

All eyes turn to Balthazar whose shoulder our General is now perched on. Anael is staring us down and folding her wings to her back. It seems like she only just arrived. She probably didn't hear us talking about Camael.

Balthazar remains unfazed and just glances at her cheerfully. "Oh, sweet Anna, you look just lovely in your meat suit!"

I have to admit, even though the young Human had seemed so weak at first sight, now that Anael is inside she radiates raw power and has quite an imposing presence, with her raven hair and her white dress blowing in the wind.

For a split second, Anael looks disconcerted by the shortened and feminized version of her name.

"_Anna?"_

"You don't like it? I think it suits you, dear. I figured that you should as well refer to feminine pronouns while you're riding a woman's body."

Anael just blinks, staring at him bemusedly.

"What a strange idea." A smile curls up the corner of her mouth. "I like it. But pleasantries aside, the wedding is cancelled and now we have work to do. Let's pay Noah and his sons a visit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Kill them, Castiel. That's an order."_


	17. The Flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Five centuries after the Apocalypse and the resurrections, a Flood is ordered to destroy the Mother of Monsters and her children. Siosp violently objects to it, and is sent to be rehabilitated. Anael possesses a Human to order the Humans and Noah to build arches.

Cold air whistles between my feathers as gusts of rain relentlessly lash down on me. Glowing bright with my Grace, torrents of water are streaming down my face and back . The stormy ocean covering the Earth offers the stunning, awe-inspiring view of a dark body of water bristling with waves all the way to the horizon. The Lord's Creation, submerged in liquid death.

A thick blanket of dark clouds is swallowing up the sky and blocking sunlight, moving and drifting like bowels and belching out downpours and lightning bolts. The world has been wiped out of life, reduced to gray scale shadows that ephemeral flashes of lightning saturate with white. Now and then a ray of sunlight pierces through the clouds into a vibrant and bright column, but it never lasts more than a few seconds.

The Angels of the Garrison are currently the only source of light on Earth. Not as beacons of life and hope, but as death carriers. Our Graces illuminate the water ahead and the floating tree branches, carcasses half-eaten by sharks, swollen dead human bodies with their eyes rolled upwards.

While the Flood is drowning all Creatures of God as well as the monsters of the Mother of All, our mission is to fly all around the Earth tracking down survivors and killing them on sight. We are the only Angels left on Earth right now, on the orders of God, all of our other brothers are holed up in Heaven. I can hear them whispering into my head even through the thunder rumbling and the rain lashing down.

We're not longer concealing our true appearance. There's no need to. The chosen ones are safe, locked up into their arks with instructions to never, _ever_, look outside.

A gust of wind throws me off balance and I struggle to go back to my position in our group flight. Together, we slice through the air in a V shape led by Anna. She evacuated Yaël's body weeks ago before the waters started rising – the Human is now safe inside one of the arks – but she insisted that we continue using feminine pronouns and the shortened version of her name. We're starting to get used to this new eccentricity of hers.

A lightning bolt tears through the sky and strikes Zedekiel so hard it throws him out of the group. He comes back two seconds later in a flurry of wings with his feathers all fluffed up and eyes narrowed in frustration.

"And that's seven for Zedekiel!" Uriel chuckles.

Zedekiel bristles and tries very hard to keep his dignity by acting as though nothing had happened and affecting to scan the stormy ocean while his feathers are smoothing back down.

"Htmorda is still leading with nine lightning strikes to his credit, followed by Zedekiel, Ephra and Levanael!" Rachel trumpets with a playful wink.

"Oh be quiet, Rachel," Htmorda snorts. "The last three times I was struck, it was because you were blocking me with your cumbersome wings!"

"Such a sore loser."

Htmorda shoves Rachel out of the group.

"You breed with the mouth of a goat!"

I can't help laughing along with my brothers, and the sound covers the roaring of thunder. Rachel flies back in place and gives Htmorda a shove in retaliation. Anna throws a severe look at us, but the glimmer of mirth in her eyes is not lost on me.

"Hold your position, soldiers. Zedekiel, Htmorda, I’ll register you both to a special training to improve your dodging skills once the Flood is over."

As a loyal soldier of God, I’ve been trying to stay focus on the Mission and not get distracted by the game, even though we haven’t seen any survivor for the last two days. But I can’t help feeling a rush of pride about not letting the lightning strike me once. I always manage to anticipate thunderbolts just in time to get out of the way. Only Miz and Anna have been as successful as me so far.

A cloud starts to glow and I swerve to the left, making a narrow escape from the sudden blast of a lightning blot slashing through the air just where I should have been.

"Nice dodge, Cas!"

The General just praised me. My Grace is glowing with delight and I can feel my feathers fluffing up, but I get a grip on myself and flap back into the group, eyes once again on the stormy body of water.

It has been a week now since it started raining. On the first day, the Humans did not worry. While Noah, his sons – Sem, Cham and Japhet – and their wives stepped into the ark with all of the animals they could find, everyone else just remained inside their fragile houses and waited for the downpour to stop. But it didn’t stop. On the second day once the chosen ones where all secured into their ships, heavy rain poured down. The rivers and lakes overflowed, the oceans rose, invading more of the lands with every second passing by. Animals found refuge on the heights while the Humans, increasingly worried, climbed on the roof of their houses. Many of those who had heard of the arks desperately tried to climb on board. We killed on sight any of them who dared come too close, making them drop dead before they even had a chance to reach salvation, regardless of whether they were human or monster, adult or child. Every single one. For orders are orders.

The rising water levels reached the top of the highest mountains where a few hundreds of animals and perceptive Humans had escaped to safety. We stood idly by, listening to their cries of distress and watching them tear themselves apart to climb on floating tree trunks. And finally, as the last of them stayed afloat, looking up to the sky with pleading eyes and whispered prayers, we pushed them one by one into the deep water until they drowned.

Now and then we find some that are still alive. In most cases, it turns out to be creatures of the Mother of All, more resilient than Humans are.

"Over there!"

Htmorda is indicating a direction with a wave of his hand, and we all rectify our course like a single entity, diving straight to the water and slowing down to a halt just above the surface with our wings widely spread to maintain our position. The rolling water is glowing bright with our reflection as we surround a small rowing boat where a dozen of exhausted mortals are crammed together. A bunch of them start screaming in agony at our sight, eye sockets bursting into flames. A man throws himself into the water to get away from our brightness and gets sucked into the deep. What strikes me the most is a man and a woman who have been clever enough to shield their eyes as well as their child’s – they’re holding the little boy tight in their arms. Their souls look pure and bright. I lean forward to brush against them with the tip of my finger, eyes dropping close when a stream of interlaced memories flows into me with a thousand colors and the heady scent of spices, honey and sun. All it takes is a split second to explore their short lives and reach a conclusion.

"These ones have not been corrupted by the Mother of All." I’m trying my best to ignore the howls of pain that rise in reaction to the sound of my voice. "They’re Humans."

All of the survivors we executed those last two days had been abominations. But these ones are Humans, without question.

"Humans or not, we have specific orders," Uriel says. "No one outside of the arks gets to live."

I withdraw my hand and straighten my back. Down at our feet on the tiny boat, half of the Humans have lost consciousness with their eye sockets empty and burned to ashes. The other ones were quick enough to bury their heads under a blanket and cover their ears.

"It’s a miracle they survived that long," I whisper so my voice won’t hurt them too much. "Could it be out of the Will of God?"

"No, Castiel," Anna says. "If it were, I would have been informed by the hierarchy. Every miracle is listed and announced during the reunions of Generals of divisions. Uriel is right."

I look back at the boat, my Grace swirling wildly. The couple of Humans is gripping their child against them in terror as if their arms could somehow protect him from the world. The father is sobbing and murmuring _It’s going to be alright… Everything will be fine, I __swear_, even though neither his wife nor his child can hear it with their ears covered. It is unfair. They lived an exemplary life, filled with courage and love. Their place should be inside the ark with the chosen ones.

"But... they are innocent..."

A hand drops onto my shoulder.

"I am aware." I turn my head to meet Anna’s steely, piercing gaze. "But orders are orders. Their souls will rest forever in Heaven, bathed in the Lord’s infinite love. We’re only just freeing them from their organic shells and from a world of pain. You do know that."

The child is young, he didn’t get to live more than a few years. There is so much hope inside his heart, and he should have his whole life in front of him. To have fought so hard and to have survived this far, only to be killed in his parents’ arms…

It’s so cruel.

Shouldn’t we show some compassion, or even just a hint of pity? Shouldn’t their bravery be rewarded?

As I stare into the General’s green eyes, a terrifying thought crosses my mind. I _could_ save them. I would just have to grab the boat, fly away and put them into an ark where they would be safe. Their fate is in my hands.

I get a grip on myself as icy fear washes through me. How could I harbor such a _deviant_ thought?

"Oh for Heaven’s sake, Cassy." Balthazar rolls his eyes and folds his arms in obvious annoyance. "They've played and they've lost. Now can we move on or are you waiting for them to die of old age?"

"… Castiel?"

Anna’s gaze sharpens suspiciously, a hint of concern swirling into her Grace. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her hand twitching as though she was about to forge her blade out. The Garrison is watching silently – only the whistling of the wind and waves crashing against the small boat can be heard. My brothers are watching me with a judgmental look in their eyes.

_It was just a thought__!_ I want to shout at them. _I would never disobey an order__! __Never__!_

All I can do is stare frozen at Anna, thoughts rushing around in my head. If I am to act, I have to do it now. But what should I do? What _should_ I do?

Her eyes harden and she leans forward until her face almost brushes against mine.

"Kill them, Castiel. That's an order."

An order.

In that moment, it all becomes clear.

Orders are orders. There is no need to think, no hesitation to have. I am Heaven’s weapon, a warrior of God. I do the Lord’s will without questioning it, for this is the purpose I was created for. Without breaking eye contact with the General, I step on the boat, pushing it deep into the dark water with such strength it raises giant waves all around.

I have done my duty. I have not failed Heaven. I'm a good soldier, a good son.

And yet, despite Anna’s nod of approval, for a brief moment I thought I saw disappointment flashing through her eyes.

* * *

The wide blue sky is reflected by the liquid mirror covering the Earth. There is not a single cloud, not a single wave to disturb the serenity ruling over the Creation.

I'm gliding high over the sea, alone with my thoughts and the voices of my brothers whispering through my head. But for once I'm not really listening to what they're saying, and I let myself be lulled by the quiet chant of Enochian inflections.

There is something harrowing and magnificent about this scenery. Everything is so peaceful. The arks still sailing in the endless ocean are the only reminders that life is still out there and will thrive again once the waters recede to their original level.

My gaze shifts from the faraway skyline to my glittering reflection as I let lukewarm air currents carry me forward.

I am in every way identical to my brothers. I was created on the same model than all the warriors of the Lord, made of Grace fused with the holy spirit. My wings stretch elegantly, long white feathers fluttering in the wind at both ends. I meet my own gaze on the shimmering surface and give a slow blink in astonishment.

In several million years of existence I had never once wondered what color my eyes were. Yet, besides my Grace, it is the only thing that distinguishes me from my brothers.

They are deep blue-gray, dark and wistful.

I didn't know that. I've never even tried to find out.

I alter the inclination of my wings, slowing down my flight to a stop. Gently, I land on the smooth surface, troubling it just enough to create undulating circles moving away from me. I fold my wings behind my back with a soft rustling sound, then crouch down to take a closer look and stare into my own eyes as though I could find in them the answer to all the questions that keep eating at me like waves on the seashore.

My three eyes are staring back.

I think back to Eve glaring up to the sky, seething with hatred. To that exact moment when, standing in front of Abel's grave, hope died in her heart and she lost Faith in God. If only I had talked to her, made her understand... If she had been able to see that Fate is inevitable but that her suffering would be rewarded in the afterlife, none of this would have happened. Earth has been ravaged, _twice_, all because I didn't say a word to Eve. And now for that same reason, Camael is in solitary confinement, Adam's soul was consumed, Cain is no longer human and is lost to us forever. I watched innocent people die and killed even more of them.

All I had to do was talk to her. So much suffering would have been avoided and Camael would still be part of the Garrison.

But orders forbade me to speak to her.

A soft sound flutters nearer as a dove flies in my direction. The bird looks exhausted and can barely flap its wings, so I lift a hand and let it perch on my finger. My Grace beads up to wrap it inside a globe of healing light.

The dove perks up and throws a curious look at me with a tilt of the head, then flies away in a flurry of wings. I follow it with my eyes until it vanishes into the infinity of the blue sky.

Everything is suddenly clear as I look down again at my reflection. _Orders_. I was following _orders_. It is my duty, and I will always obey my Father. That’s the very reason I exist.

My reflection’s eyes harden and I feel my Grace flowing with ease again. A sense of serenity washes over me as I rise to my feet and gaze up to the sky. I remember the truth, the most fundamental truth, the _only_ truth that is unquestionable. The orders come from the Lord, He who created the world and all living things. Orders are orders, for no Angel oppose or question the will of God.

I have Faith. The Lord works in mysterious ways and I trust Him. His plan is just, even if I'm not up to understanding it.

Nothing else but the Mission matters. I do know that.

So why do I feel so bad?

* * *

Humans have multiplied at a tremendous rate since they set foot on land. Every woman became permanently pregnant, sometimes with twins or triplets, and none of them died in labor. Samandriel, the Angel of Fertility, obviously did a very good job.

It has been barely a century but there are already hundreds of thousands of them moving in herds to expand their territory, relentlessly building new cities in every valley favorable to agriculture and fishing. That is a constant throughout their evolution. Humans never settle for what they have, they are always in pursuit of something better, they all want _more_ and spend their short lives being dissatisfied.

They passed on the story of the Flood to their children and instilled in them a sense of Faith filled with reverent fear. I don't know why they seem convinced that sacrificing animals will gain them the Lord's favors, though. Why would Father want His most recent creations to slit the throats of other older creations?

Maybe He does enjoy it? I don't know. I have no way of knowing what He wants.

All I do know is that this new human habit is not to the liking of the divisions in charge of animals. Not only they had to bring all life back to Earth _again_, but now they must endure the sight of pointless sacrifices. Which has a damaging effect on the Garrison's relations with other divisions. Now that we're back on our monitoring mission, they keep blaming us for lazing around while they are busy recreating wildlife and flora.

I have heard that the commanders of many divisions have objected to Anna's request for permanent reinforcements. The addition of new soldiers, which had been planned for centuries, is therefore being postponed. We will have to settle for Balthazar for now, and the occasional assistance of Hester and Virgil.

Invisible to mortal eyes, a group of Angels flies in strict formation over the line of Nomadic Humans marching towards the East. I don't know them, and they don't even spare me a glance as they dash to the horizon, except for one of them who slows down and lags behind, staring at me with onyx eyes brimming with fascination. I hold his gaze until he gives me a short nod and flaps his wings to join his group.

I look down again at the line of Humans, goats, mules loaded with bales, and oxen pulling carts carrying pregnant women and infants.

I understand my brothers' anger. I find this multiplication of sacrifices inappropriate, considering the current fragile state of Creation. Noah, in particular, showed a very appalling lack of discernment by rushing out of the ark to slaughter the only animals still alive on Earth, shouting glory to the Lord. The next events only confirmed his idiocy: he cultivated vineyards for the sole purpose of getting inebriated, and exposed himself naked in front of his sons all the while yelling out God's praises.

I don't care that he is of Cain's lineage, Noah is not worth half the Humans I exterminated on that boat. I keep thinking back to the trembling child in the arms of his parents. If it were up to me, I would have saved them and drowned Noah instead.

I should put these thoughts aside and focus on my mission. I scan the Humans one by one, squatting down to touch them with the tip of a finger, searching in their memories for the slightest information about the Mother of All. It seems obvious to me that she perished in the Flood along with the abominations she brought into the world, but orders are orders. We must ensure that the enemy is defeated.

I close my eyes and immerse myself in their short lives filled with joy and suffering. There is no trace of the Mother, nor of any of her creatures in their memory.

A chorus of flapping wings draws me out of my contemplation. I rise to face three green eyes adorned with silver filaments.

"Hello, Castiel."

Samandriel folds his wings, revealing about a hundred unranked Cherubs shuffling forward until they're surrounding me, gazing up at me with wide delighted eyes.

"Helloooooo!" one of them trumpets in a high-pitched voice.

The unranked Cherubs shuffle even closer to me, keeping their sparkling eyes on me.

"… Hello," I finally answer, growing uncomfortable under all these stares.

I'm not used to being around Cherubs, let alone unranked ones. I'm twice their size and their perpetual cheerful attitude is quite unsettling.

My greeting seems to please them greatly, and I freeze when they rush at me, embracing my legs, piling up and climbing over each other until they're clinging to every part of my body, including my wings. The sensation is so unpleasant I can feel my feathers bristling. Only my face is spared and I throw a look of distress at Samandriel whose eyes sparkle with amusement. My sense of dignity is the only thing keeping me from shaking them off.

"Come on now. Leave Castiel alone and do what you are supposed to do. You have soulmates to bind, couples to form. Dismissed!"

Giggling, the Cherubs release me much to my relief and fly in all directions, leaving us alone in a matter of seconds.

"Don't be mad at them, Castiel. They are young and excited, they meant no harm."

I turn to face my brother as my feathers gradually deflate.

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I, to be honest. No one does. But they would be hurt if we told them so. It's their way of saying hello, goodbye or thank you. To say pretty much anything, actually."

I look again at the long line of Humans walking slowly but stubbornly. Samandriel crouches down to have a closer look, reaching out to them, lingering on a pregnant woman to touch her rounded belly, his bluish Grace seeping inside.

"Fraternal twins, a boy and a girl, both perfectly healthy..."

The mother is sitting on a cart and stroking her belly with a fond smile.

"I believe that in all of Creation, a mother's love is the most beautiful thing Father has ever created."

Only when Samandriel throws a surprised look at me do I realize that I said these words out loud. I avert my gaze and try to appear composed.

"Probably because it is an emotion that we can easily relate to," says my younger brother as he rises to his feet and takes in the green landscape. "We do experience a sense of attachment to our brothers, and devotion to our Father. But human feelings are different. Selfish, desperate, inconsistent, painful, but also stronger. More real."

I freeze, the swirling of my Grace turning sluggish. Samandriel's soft gaze returns to me.

"Humans are fragile, ephemeral, frightened by their impending death, but in a few decades they live more intensely than we do in millions of years. Nothing we know could ever compare to the love they can feel."

These are dangerous words. Is it because of his young age and inexperience that he speaks so recklessly? He puts words on things that should be left unsaid, on thoughts that I would never have dared to express, and he does so with such disarming ease. If the hierarchy heard of this.…

"You shouldn't say such things, Samandriel," I say, my voice growing tense. "It's dangerous."

He blinks and stares at me with an intrigued look, which makes the silvery flakes of his green eyes glitter.

"Why? God gave Humans free will and the capacity to love and hate, and He gave it to them only. It These are both wonderful and cruel gifts whose value we will never be able to measure. I am aware of this and fully accept it."

"Some might think you envy them, or worse, admire them. That you are _devoted_ to them."

Samandriel's eyes widen as realization flashes through them.

"You are thinking about Camael."

Camael. I look down again at the Humans and can't bring myself to say a word. Samandriel strokes my back with the tip of his wing as I keep my eyes glued to a carriage where a mother is rocking a wailing infant in her arms and murmuring calming words.

"Acknowledging the uniqueness of Humans in Creation does not mean that my devotion is not entirely to God," he says softly. "I may be young – I am only a few hundred thousand years old after all - but I have studied Humans and their emotions enough to know that their souls are of inestimable value. And I can see why God favors them among all His creations."

A stab of pain shots through my Grace. I don't want to think about the fact that Humans are Father's favorites, and that He made them in His image, which is not our case. I have accepted this truth over time, but it remains painful, and dwelling on it would only hinder my efficiency as a soldier and lead me astray, just like Lucifer.

"Camael was..."

The memory of my dejected brother standing in the middle of a ring of holy fire come back to me, and I close my eyes to chase it away. I have been trying very hard not to think about Camael, knowing that he is still in isolation, alone in this room with marble columns and deafening silence. And he has been there for six centuries now.

"Camael _is_ a good soldier," I say louder even though my voice lacks conviction. "I believe he attached too much importance to his mission and put it above everything else."

Weirdly enough, I feel unable to serve him Michael's version, and share my own thoughts instead. Because Samandriel is right about one thing. We are not capable of love or hatred, no matter what Cain's memories showed. Cain might have felt love for Camael, but the reverse is impossible. _Impossible_. That was only devotion. A powerful but misplaced devotion, for only God deserves it.

Samandriel remains silent, and I keep my eyes shut, continuing in a low voice: "I hope God will be merciful and forgive him. I pray to Him every day to offer Camael a second chance."

"You've got heart, Castiel. Perhaps too much of it."

My eyes snap open. I am about to defend myself, but I see no trace of accusation in his eyes. He's looking at me with so much compassion and empathy that holding his gaze hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, march 29th)
> 
> _"Salvation has been waiting for us all this time in the arse of cows! Hallelujah!"_
> 
> **[Author's note] The illustration in this chapter has been drawn by Cinensis!**


	18. Sodom and Gomorrah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Camael has been in solitary confinement for centuries awaiting his punishment, Balthazar has joined the Garrison permanently, Lucifer was put in a cage at the end of the Apocalypse, and the Flood drowned the Earth to exterminate the Mother of Monsters and her creations. Siosp, who objected to this, was sent to rehabilitation.

_ **Brothers, you have to come and see this. It's worth the ride. The plain in the land of Shinar. Hurry up, you don't want to miss it.** _

Well, that's intriguing. Miz is not the talking type, there must be a very good reason for him to call us all.

I spread my wings to propel myself high into the sky until I fly through the layer of clouds shading the Earth. An ocean of white cotton blossoms as far as the eye can see, wrapping the curve of the planet in a serene silence. The sun shines on my feathers as I slice through the air in the direction of the East. Miz might have spotted some of Eve's creatures. Or maybe demons.

When I finally get to the site and land on the earth, the entire Garrison is already there. My brothers are standing in a circle with their heads down, staring at the ground in silent consternation.

"Are they serious now?" I can hear Zedekiel muttering in disbelief.

I carefully fold my wings behind my back and step closer to try to peer over their shoulders or through their bodies.

"They couldn't be more serious. That's what's so fascinating about Humans," Balthazar says. "They are not doing it on purpose. They are sincerely stupid."

What are they talking about? Uriel steps out of the circle and turns his back on us, shaking with hysterical but silent laughter. I hurry to take his place.

At our feet, nestled in the middle of the green plain, lies a city that could be considered imposing from a human point of view, although it is far from being as large as the cities that existed before the Apocalypse and the Flood. Everything is built with bricks made of clay and hay. And from what I can see, they are welded together with dried dung. As I have observed in the last centuries, the great advances in architecture that Humans had made were lost in the Flood. It is even more striking here, in these lands that once were Levanael's sector, where Humans used to build beautiful, white and solid houses.

In the center of the city there is a gathering of hundreds of overexcited Humans carrying bricks. I look up at Miz in confusion. What's so funny?

He holds my gaze enigmatically and winks at me.

"You missed the funniest part, Castiel," Htmorda chuckles. "The Humans have decided to build a tower that will reach the heavens. They have just declared that it will be called the Tower of Babel. Yes, you heard correctly: _Babel_ \- Gate of Heaven, or Gate of God!"

A hand rests on my shoulder and I turn my head to look into Uriel's mirthful eyes.

"Can you believe it, Cas! They're going to reach God with their tiny pile of dung! How come we didn't think of this first? Salvation has been waiting for us all this time in the arse of cows! Hallelujah!"

"Praised be the Lord who knows how to be found in the darkest and most unexpected places!"

"Amen."

"How come you keep running into the most entertaining things, Miz?"

Miz merely shrugs in all modesty.

"This is ridiculous," Ephra says, and he's the only one who doesn't seem to enjoy the irony. "If all it took to meet our Father was to build a tower, we would know."

I squint and lower my eyes back to the city, watching more closely.

"Where do you see a tower?"

"Right here, even if it's giving them way too much credit to call it a _tower_.…"

I focus my gaze to the direction Rachel's pointing at. Indeed, the Humans are piling their bricks and fussing over an ongoing construction. But it doesn't seem to be any higher than thirty-seven feet, and I notice that not only are the bases too fragile, but that the dried dung is already cracking in some places. The mocking sneers my brothers are letting out make suddenly a lot of sense.

"They're expecting to reach the sky with… _this?_"

"Are they not _adorable?_" Balthazar says in a drawling voice. "A brick already fell just before you arrived. The whole thing will collapse any minute now, I don't want to miss it. Should we take bets? I would say it's going to fall down in the next five minutes."

"Deal. I'm betting on half an hour," Zedekiel chimes in.

I barely restrain myself from adding my own prediction as their voices bounce back and forth and they're all sharing their opinion. This is not very serious. Still, I can't help but experience the same excitement as my brothers, and keep my eyes riveted on the tower as well.

Only Miz remains impassive – he's watching us with his arms crossed, a jolly glint in his light brown eyes. Anna isn’t here, though. Where is she? Maybe in a meeting with the hierarchy?

We all grow silent when a cracking sound is heard. A brick is splitting.

"I knew it!" Balthazar gloats in a victorious tone.

"It's not quite collapsing yet," Zedekiel protests, bending down to have a better look.

Totally unaware, the Humans keep stacking bricks by gluing them with dung. And suddenly, an entire segment crumbles down into a cloud of dust. Then, screams rise up to us as they start running around in a frenzy to dig those stuck under the rumbles.

"What were you saying again?" Balthazar mocks him.

"Well, only a quarter is down, it hardly counts."

Uriel's thundering laughter bursts over my shoulder when the rest of the tower collapses in a matter of seconds. Zedekiel's dejected air sparks a flurry of giggles.

Down on the ground, Humans fling their arms up to the sky, shouting themselves hoarse about the wrath of God.

"The least we can say is that they have a flair for drama," Balthazar comments.

Rachel’s wings are twitching in exasperation.

"Humans are so annoying when they interpret everything they don't understand by invoking God's name... As if Father would be concerned about their pathetic piles of dung!"

"I would gladly show them what divine wrath really looks like," Uriel snorts with a fiery glow in his purple eyes.

A double rustling sound of feathers behind me makes all of us turn around to see Anna and Siosp landing.

Siosp.

Has he completed his rehabilitation?

Silence falls, except for collective human hysteria on the ground. Both of them fold their wings back, and Anna stares at us with a slightly irritated look.

"Soldiers. I thought I had banned this type of gathering that distracts you from your mission. I need you to be on your guard at all times, ready to obey orders within a second. And once again, Miz, you're the one to blame."

Miz merely blinks without losing his usual impassibility. Anna glowers at him one more second before relaxing.

"I will let it slide for now. Brothers, I have two excellent news to tell you. First, Siosp has successfully completed his rehabilitation and is back with us. His impulsive behavior bordering on rebellion has been suppressed and will no longer hinder the Mission."

The calm way Siosp's navy blue eyes are gazing at us isn't like him. He has always been of a restless and nervous nature, and I have never seen him stand so still and expressionless.

"Secondly," Anna continues, ignoring our silence, "Camael's fate is still uncertain, but I know from a reliable source that the possibility of an execution has been definitively ruled out!"

Surprised whispers arise from our group and Htmorda's Grace is swirling with delight, but Levanael keeps staring at Siosp with concern.

"I bet Camael's punishment will be to be transferred to the plankton division," Zedekiel whispers to me in a gossipy tone. "I've been told their work is so dull you could die of boredom."

I give no reply and turn my attention to Siosp, watching him more attentively. His four arms are properly at his sides and his Grace is flowing fluidly, pure and bright, but the empty look in his eyes is terrifying.

"And what is _that__?_"

Anna's irritated voice draws me out of it – she’s squinting down at the Humans who keep screaming and crying, begging the Lord to forgive them for their arrogance.

"Oh. Rest assured that we have nothing to do with this, Anna," Htmorda replies immediately. "The Humans were building a tower to reach God, and thought it was a divine punishment when it collapsed."

Anna blinks in bewilderment.

"Oh Lord, give me the strength… Do _not_, under any circumstances, discuss it with the other divisions. Humans are already the favorite topic of every single joke in Heaven since the goat incident, this is the last thing we need right now."

"If the Humans in Siosp's sector were to decide to build a tower, I'm willing to bet they would reach three hundred feet easily. Don't you think, Siosp?"

Ephra shots him a warning look, but Levanael just keeps his eyes on Siosp, watching for his reaction.

Siosp takes his eyes off the collapsed pile of bricks, and looks up with an expressionless gaze.

"There are no sectors anymore."

Siosp has not missed a single opportunity throughout tens of millions of years to gloat about the achievements and superiority of the beings in his sector. Although annoying, his dedication and competitive spirit were a part of his temperament, and he now seems to have been stripped of it.

Never have I feared rehabilitation as much as I do now.

* * *

The last sunrays paint coral shades on the clouds huddling up at the skyline, like a final splash of color before the darkness washes everything away. The sky is already darkening, fiery tones of purple and gold giving way to a deep blue sprinkled with stars.

It is a moonless night.

The wind is blowing ripples on the surface of the wide saline lake, here, in Siosp's former sector. The water is dark, sliced from side to side by a flaming trail as the sun is melting into the ground.

Blade in hand, I keep my eyes set on the city that is slowly sliding into slumber. It is currently the largest and most densely populated human city in the world, and it takes over the entire area south of the lake. And soon it will be gone.

My brothers stand in line beside me, quiet and focused. We cannot proceed until we receive the signal, and the same applies to the other group assigned to Gomorrah, at the other end of the lake. I look up and catch a glimpse of my brothers' distant figures.

This is a mission of the utmost importance that has been entrusted to the Garrison, and I feel my Grace rippling with dread. The fate of Humanity is at stake. And not just Humanity.

It has become clear in the last few centuries that the Flood failed its purpose. I can't explain how the Mother of All survived, but it would appear that she definitely is alive and committed to turn every last human into a monster. The very creatures we believed we had wiped off the face of the earth, the blood drinkers, the wolves... they’ve all come back. All of them. And once again, Humans are in great danger of becoming extinct.

Our sources reveal that Eve has been appearing frequently in the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah to spawn new creatures.

This mission is crucial, because it is our last chance. Should we fail to find Eve and eliminate her by destroying these two cities, a new Apocalypse will be scheduled in the upcoming days. All beings on Earth will perish by fire and we won't be saving anyone this time.

Heaven as a whole has been in turmoil since this decision was announced, which means Anna and the Garrison are under pressure. We cannot afford to fail. The destruction of these two cities is unavoidable, but I've been told they are almost entirely populated by abominations.

I just need to stop thinking about the innocent people who will be killed in this operation.

_ **We found Lot and he agreed to leave Sodom with us, but the future husbands of his two daughters refuse to believe us and are mocking us.** _

That was the voices of Rachel and Ephra, echoing in chorus through our heads.

We all look up on alert. At last some news of the undercover mission that started hours ago. Anna glances at Michael and gets a nod from the Archangel. The look in our General's eyes hardens with cold determination as her voice rings like a bell.

_ **Don't bother convincing them, they are ** _ _ **expandable** _ _ **. They do not carry the blood of Cain in their veins. ** _ _ **Only Lot and his daughters** _ _ ** matter, and incidentally, Lot's wife** _ _ **.** _ _ ** The girls will find other husbands, so let them perish. Now hurry up and get out discreetly. We do not want to alert the monsters.** _

Rachel and Ephra invested two vessels – female bodies, at their express request – and received a holy weapon to accomplish their undercover mission. They were ordered to evacuate the direct descendants of Cain from the city before we burn it to the ground, undetected by the Mother of All and her children.

The Sisters of Fate were very specific. Cain's lineage will not die for several millennia. It is written. And what is written cannot be undone.

I watch my brothers out of the corner of my eye. The Garrison was divided into two groups so that we could attack Sodom and Gomorrah at the same time. Michael is in charge of the mission and will give the signal, while Raphael and Gabriel supervise the other group that will destroy Gomorrah.

"They're taking too much time…" Hester whispers.

"Rachel and Ephra have no other choice," Levanael says. "They have to walk all the way out and be careful not to be noticed."

"The Mother of All has eyes and ears everywhere," Uriel adds. "Which won't save her once we rat her out."

He is eagerly staring at the city. Almost ecstatic. Siosp glances at him, and for a split second I could swear I saw anger flashing through his dark eyes.

I must have seen it wrong. Ever since he came back from rehabilitation, Siosp has become as quiet as Miz, and never mentioned his sector again. He didn't even react when Michael described his battle strategy, involving the destruction of the two main cities in his former sector.

Squinting, I point to the outskirts of the city.

"Look."

Loaded with cloth bundles, Lot, his daughters and his wife are leaving the city like shadows in the twilight, followed by Rachel and Ephra. Balthazar picked the vessels himself – slender and graceful twin sisters, with long blond hair flowing in the night breeze. As it had happened for Michael and Anna, their true faces is floating, translucent, over the faces of their hosts, and their white wings have no material consistency in this dimension. Rachel is holding the holy weapon tight in her hand, walking right behind Lot's family.

_ **Mission achieved. Wait a few more minutes until we get them far enough, and then you can begin.** _

They're sending these thoughts in chorus again, in perfect celestial harmony.

Anna stiffens and glances at Michael before sending the order to the entire Garrison.

_ **Be prepared to rain fire on the entire region. No life form must survive. We have to get the Mother of Monsters out, whatever it takes.** _

Uriel leans forward, his hands already starting to glimmer, radiating raw power as he unfurls his wings. I tighten my grip on my blade and wait for the signal. Lot is walking wearily, leaning on a stick, and his two daughters keep their eyes on the ground, silent tears running down their cheeks. When they finally reach the mountains and begin to climb, Lot's wife hesitates for a second and turns her head to look back at Sodom. In retaliation, Rachel frowns and holds up her weapon, a piece of crystal which fits in the palm of her hand. Lot's wife freezes immediately - her eyes crumble and her entire body, including her clothes, turns into salt. Rachel just keeps on moving forward without a second thought, she shatters the statue with a flick and steps over the salt pile.

_**"Rachel…"**_ Anna says in a reproachful tone.

In her borrowed body, Rachel lifts a defensive face.

_ **What? I warned her! I told her not to look back. It's not my fault if she can't follow instructions. Not a great loss anyway, she was worthless.** _

Ephra doesn't even spare the salt pile a glance as she walks behind Lot and his daughters, her gaze sweeping around, on the lookout.

_ **"This weapon is not a toy!"** _

"Let it go, Anna."

Michael's quiet voice silences her. The Archangel is pensively scanning the horizon.

"It was meant to happen."

We observe a reverent silence. No one ignores that what is written must come to pass, and that Destiny is one of the rules that God has set to rule His Creation.

The Archangel gazes down at the sleeping city where only a few monsters and Humans are still wandering through the streets.

_ **Begin destruction.** _

That's the signal. Uriel immediately soars off and propels a mighty burst of energy that destroys half of Sodom with a resounding blast. When the blinding light fades, it is replaced by a blaze of fire that swallows up the rest of the city. In his eagerness, he's already done half the work for us. I am positive that he could have single-handedly wiped out the two cities. He is undoubtedly the most powerful Angel in the Garrison.

I dig my claws into the ground and slash the earth with my blade, drawing a precipice to make it impossible for anyone to flee. The citizens of Sodom are now wide awake, running around and trying to get away from death by all means. I try to ignore their cries of sheer terror as I unveil myself to them like all of my brothers. Instantly their eyes burst into flames and their screams become agonizing. I tear off a part of the city with my blade, cutting in half houses and people alike, searching every corner for Eve. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can stop this bloodshed, and spare the Humans that have survived. Perhaps Michael will let us resurrect the people who were killed in the operation. I can see Uriel shooting down fireballs all over the area, and Hester stomping on the people who are trying to retreat into the salt water of the lake, smashing them down into a bloody pulp.

"STOP IT!"

I look up sharply and stare in shock at Siosp who, flying high in the sky, just stopped Uriel's arm.

"Get out of my way, Siosp," Uriel hisses, narrowing his eyes into three purple slits.

"Look at you all!" Siosp yells at us. "Look at what you've become! You're destroying the Creation, you're destroying _everything!_"

"Siosp," Anna snaps in a panicked tone. "Shut up _immediately_ or I'll have to send you back to…"

"No, Anna. Let him speak his mind."

Michael spreads his wings, rises up to Siosp's height, and lays his eyes on him. All I can hear is the fire roaring and people screaming down on the ground. Our Graces are shaded with fiery colors.

"We are listening, Siosp," Michael says in a soft, benevolent voice.

My brother’s gaze is shifting, scanning each of us and lingering for a while on Levanael. His Grace is bright with fear and determination when he finally looks back at the Archangel.

"Eve never killed anything, all she ever did was to make humans into something new. She made abominations of them, sure, but she never tried to ruin the entire Creation. But we have come close to destroying the Earth on several occasions just to prevent her from creating more monsters! If you think about it, she’s only modeling Humans into her own creations! Is this really worth all the killing and destruction?"

"These are our orders, Siosp. What better purpose could you ever need?"

Siosp barks out a bitter laugh.

"Ah, yes. Orders. It always comes back to orders in the end, right? But where do orders come from? Who gives them? _God__?_"

"Yes."

Michael's voice is calm and confident.

"You don't fool me!" Siosp bursts out with rage, gesturing wildly at the fire all around. "No Creator would allow His work to be destroyed! If God existed, He would never tolerate this!"

A ripple of dark, icy fear creeps into me as I tighten my grip on my blade.

_Blasph__emy_.

"Siosp…"

I hardly recognize my own voice. Stunned, barely above a whisper.

"_If__?_" Levanael opens his eyes wide in horror. "Siosp, I’m begging you, _stop talking__!_"

Michael blinks, tilting his head with an undecipherable look in his eyes.

Once again, I am powerless when another of my brothers wanders off the right path. I couldn’t find the right words to bring Camael to reason, and I’m none the wiser today. Surely Michael will handle the situation better than I ever could.

The Archangel does seem serene, almost compassionate.

"Go on. Finish your thought."

"God isn't real! I have never seen Him, and if He does exist, then He should manifest Himself at once to prove me wrong!"

The look in Michael’s eyes shifts into something truly _terrifying_. He slams an open hand on Siosp’s forehead, and the skull he’s clutching between his fingers lights up like the sun, radiating pure, blinding white. My Grace freezes in horror when a long, high-pitched, agonizing shriek drowns out every other sound as Siosp’s Grace starts boiling, filled with the destructive light slowly invading his body. Michael is staring at him unblinkingly, coldly monitoring his agony.

Siosp's wings burst into flames and his screech never stops, increasing with each second, ever more harrowing and overloaded with unfathomable pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my brother’s body disintegrates and his Grace ignites as his wings crumble. And the next second, there is nothing left of Siosp except a slow rain of ashes falling into the fire.

_ **This, brothers, was the divine punishment for doubting God.** _

Michael's voice echoes loudly inside my head, and when the familiar whispering of my thousands of brothers trails off, giving way to a fearful silence, I realize that he is addressing all the Angels in Heaven, every single one of them.

Flying high in the sky, he’s staring us down, and his Grace is so bright it chases darkness away and makes the starry night fade.

_ **God is real ** _ _ **and gives His orders to His eldest sons.** _ _ ** To obey and have Faith is your duty, soldiers, that's the only reason He created you. ** _ _ **Siosp forgot his place, don’t make the same mistake he did or you will face the same fate. ** _ _ **Any doubt or blasphemy will be punished by death** _ _ **. There will be no rehabilitation or redemption for such a despicable crime.** _

The silence is deafening. At the other side of the salt lake, Raphael is looking up at Michael with his eyes wide open, while Gabriel keeps his head down and his fists clenched.

_ **"Resume the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah immediately. Should we not find the Mother of Monsters before dawn, we will ** _ _ **make lava and fire rain down on ** _ _ **Earth. I don't care how many Apocalypses it takes, a thousand, a million if it comes to it, but we will destroy her."** _

He is now talking only to us and I snap back to my senses when a thunderous explosion strikes the city, startling me. Uriel has reacted first, resuming his mission where he left it off. His eagerness to destroy is gone though, there is no delight in his work now. I fly up, Hester at my side, and together we start throwing waves of pure energy at the Humans and creatures swarming on the ground.

I feel empty. I can still hear Siosp screaming in agony, the sound carved into my head. Everything seems to be happening slower now, as though time itself thickened.

Uriel’s Grace, radiating wrath.

Our General shouting the order to surround the city.

The haunted look in Levanael’s eyes as he obeys.

And the _fear_ that has overtaken me.

I have never doubted the existence of God. It would never have even occurred to me not to believe in Him. Faith is a part of me just like the Mission, that is what I was created for, that is my purpose, and I can' t even imagine how it would be possible to exist without obeying or believing.

However, to think that death sentence awaits each and every one of us at the slightest hint of doubt is terrifying to me. For I was tempted to disobey, once, for a second, but I came back to my senses. What if I lost myself again? To the point of doubting God?

No, that’s impossible. It won’t happen. I won’t allow it to happen. I will never let myself doubt ever again. I’m a good soldier, and I won’t fail the Lord like Camael or Siosp did.

I am at God's command, and orders are orders.

I need to focus on the Mission.

No sign of Eve has been detected yet, even though Sodom and Gomorrah are in flames and the skyline is growing paler with the upcoming dawn. _Where is she?_ We have to find her before the sun rises. If we fail, the Creation will be destroyed again along with Humanity.

And suddenly, as I'm about to smite a few last survivors, the energy refuses to flow from my palm. My wings grow stiff, I lose my balance and fall, crashing on the ground.

I’m not the only one. All around, my brothers are falling too, hard – Uriel and Hester nearly hit me as they smash into the ground.

Could it be the effect of a banishing sigil? No, it can’t be. I’ve experienced its effects twice now in my life, and I know a banishing sigil would have sent us far away from here, we wouldn’t still be stepping on the burning embers and ashes of the dying city.

"The Mother of All…" Anna whispers in a tense voice.

I follow her gaze and stare in shock. A tiny figure has pierced the shimmering surface of the lake and is slowly rising above it. It’s Eve, I recognize her clear eyes and faded golden hair. Eve, Cain and Abel’s mother. God’s chosen one, who ran naked and innocent in the Garden of Eden with Adam, at a time when there was no Heaven, no Hell, no demons, no monsters… Eve, whose eyes, vibrant with hatred and despair, had struck me when she was standing in tears in front of her son's grave… The one I could have saved with just a few words, or if only I had been faster than Azazel…

Her hair sways like a liquid halo around her head and there is a glowing-red and ancient sheen in her eyes. She’s wearing a white dress thrashing as though a strong wind were blowing, whereas the air is static, only weighed down by the fire's heat.

_**"Attack!"**_ Michael's powerful voice rings out.

Even though he’s grounded too with limp wings, he grabs his blade and races towards the Mother of Monsters. We hurriedly follow suit, ready to capture or kill the enemy. Uriel and Hester at my side, I wield my blade and am about to strike it down on Eve, when I am suddenly shoved back. It is only by digging my claws into the ground that I manage to keep my balance.

The Mother of Monsters, her hand outstretched, is unharmed. She smiles at us, her gaze lingering on Michael and Raphael who, with their legs immersed in the salt lake, are glowering at her. Raphael attempts to step forward and growls angrily when he fails to reach her. As for Gabriel, he just stands aside.

"Don't bother, Angels. None of you can kill me."

She floats down, laying her feet on the burning ground, surrounded by fire.

"Covering the Earth with lava is a good idea, but even if all life would be destroyed in water, fire or oblivion, I will always stay." Her smile widens, and she looks up at us. "For I am the Mother, and have had a part in creating everything you know, in my own way."

Michael has regained his composure and glares at the Mother of All with cold eyes.

"If we can't kill you, we'll lock you up and then destroy every last one of your children."

The red glow in Eve's eyes intensifies and the fire gradually fades over the entire area, like a nightmare dissipating.

"How could you lock me up when you can't even get close to me?"

Several monsters around her are coming back to life, their charred bodies rebuilding themselves effortlessly. She reaches out to one of them and strokes his hair before kissing his forehead as Eve used to do with Abel and Cain when they were children. Her smile turns sad as she shifts away to look back at us.

"And still, you plan to destroy the Earth to get to me. All of you foolish soldiers would destroy my work and God's work out of a misguided sense of duty. You should have listened to Siosp. It’s so rare that an Angel says something wise."

She lets out a sigh while a few other monsters come back to life.

"I have nothing to fear from you, Angels. But I won't let you slaughter my beloved children any longer. I have no desire to see Creation destroyed. All I want is to see my children live there in harmony. Therefore, I propose an arrangement."

By my side, Uriel narrows his purple eyes.

"We won't negotiate with abominations like you!"

Michael lifts a hand to shut him up.

"Quiet, Uriel. There are things you don’t know about."

Raphael averts his eyes, clenching his fists, his Grace filling with sorrow. Uriel grows silent and glances at me as if I understood a thing about what’s happening. I don’t.

"Since my very presence on Earth is obviously offensive to you," says Eve, her voice as soft as a summer breeze, "I offer to lock myself in Purgatory where my children's souls are resting. In exchange for which, you will promise that Heaven and its Angels will never again attempt to exterminate my creations. I want a solemn promise that binds all of Heaven."

Michael gazes at Eve with a strangely wistful gleam in his eyes for a moment.

"Your creatures have been turning Humans at an alarming rate. We cannot let them live, otherwise Humanity will go extinct."

"I will moderate their appetite, have no fear. Like you, I am honor-bound to keep my word. Each of my children has a weak point. Humans only have to find it out and learn to protect themselves."

Michael and Raphael share a brief look before nodding.

"Then we have an agreement, Mother of All. We will take an oath, and so will you."

Shouldn't they be consulting Father before making such a decision?

Smiling, Eve is caressing her children’s faces so gently, and when she starts speaking, her voice echoes through all of our heads.

** _"I, the Mother of All Things, swear to let myself be locked up and to control my children's hunger as long as the Angels hold their end of the bargain."_ **

Michael closes his eyes and spreads his bright white wings, followed by Raphael and Gabriel.

** _"In the name of the Almighty Lord, all Angels solemnly pledge to never raise a hand against the Mother of All's children. I, Michael..."_ **

** _ **"** _ ** ** _ **I** _ ** ** _ **, Raphael…"** _ **

** _ **"** _ ** ** _ **I** _ ** ** _ **, Gabriel…"** _ **

**_**"**_****_**I**_****_**, Castiel**_**_**,**_**_**"**_** I say solemnly, closing my eyes as well.

** _"_ ** ** _I_ ** ** _, Hester…"_ **

All my brothers add their names to the sacred and inviolable oath we’re making. Our voices rise by hundreds of thousands into a powerful and solemn song that rings throughout all Creation.

** _"… swear in the name of God and all that is sacred…"_ **

Every single of us Angels is taking the oath. I hear them all submitting to the Archangels’ will. God’s will.

** _"… never to break this oath that binds us all. May he who betrays it be forever damned."_ **

Our voices fade into whispering echoes as sunrise grazes the skyline with pale light. Eve spreads her arms wide – a crack in reality slashes through the air behind her, shattering space and time, sucking her in before collapsing and disappearing as if it were never here in the first place. The Mother of Monsters as been swallowed up into Purgatory.

Silence falls. No one dares to speak or ask questions.

And I realize that once more, the Apocalypse was prevented because the enemy preferred to surrender rather than see the Creation destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, april 5th)
> 
> _"Don't tell me you still haven't figured out where your eye color comes from?"_


	19. Plagues of Egypt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Camael has been in solitary confinement for nearly a thousand years awaiting his punishment. Siosp was executed by Michael for doubting God's existence. The Mother of Monsters made a pact with Heaven, allowing herself to be locked up in Purgatory in exchange for her children's lives.

"You look upset, Anna."

The General's Grace is flowing haltingly, filled with bubbles that keep popping and rebuilding immediately. She narrows her eyes, staring at the scarlet trail of the Nile that snakes out into the distance. The warm climate makes the skyline and everything around us waver, while the foul air rises into the sky.

Anna clenches her fists.

"What was meant as a formality is taking longer than planned..." she mutters.

Exuding a putrid stench, countless dead fish are floating on the river of dark and thick blood. Thousands of them are littering the shores with gaping mouths and glassy eyes. They have been rotting there for a week surrounded by swarms of buzzing flies, while the Humans of Egypt are dying of thirst under the scorching sun. All the water of the land has been turned into blood, and they now have no other choice but to drink filtered urine in order to survive.

Such is the power of the holy weapon that we have entrusted to Moses and his brother Aaron.

It was supposed to be a routine mission like the one we accomplished with Abraham or Isaac. Free a population to gain its devotion in order to instill Faith among Humans, as the new directives require. Nothing too complicated, but Pharaoh's stubborn opposition is getting in the way of Heaven's plans.

Over the last few centuries, the orders have been more and more about revealing our existence and more particularly God's existence to Humans. Everything would suggest that Father wishes to be feared and loved by His latest creations, as He had attempted to do with Adam and Eve.

The strategy so far has not been very effective, in my opinion: our missions have targeted a few isolated families, and the impact has been quite limited. That is probably why our current mission involves a large group of people.

Father knows what He is doing. I must have faith in His plan. Because the plan is right.

At our feet, Aaron is once again threatening Pharaoh with the eloquence Moses lacks, and once again, it's ineffective. Then Moses holds out his staff over the river of blood, and millions of frogs emerge in flowing masses. It doesn't take long for these lands to be drowned in a deafening chorus of croaking.

"Maybe this time Pharaoh will give in..." I say, taking a step back to have a better look at the horror and despair the Humans are displaying.

"I hope so. If he doesn't, we will have no other choice but to proceed with more radical methods, which I'm not looking forward to."

Orders are clear. The mission cannot be carried out without Pharaoh's full and unconditional agreement. And orders are orders.

Anna's wings are twitching behind her back with barely repressed frustration. I haven' t seen her like this since the day Adam and Eve were born.

"Why not persuade him more _efficiently?_ I'm positive that by altering or changing some of his memories, I could..."

"No, Castiel. We are agents of Destiny, but we are also required to respect Humans' free will, except when ordered otherwise by the hierarchy. These are the rules. Pharaoh has to release them out of his own free will, or else the mission will be a failure."

Out of his own _free will_…

Should we still call it free will when we all know that his destiny is to give in eventually, and that we are instructed to make sure of this by any means necessary? Why do we even offer a choice if we only accept one answer? Why let this suffering and pretense continue when what is meant to happen will happen, no matter what? It would be so much easier and truthful to just force Pharaoh to follow the path that Destiny has chosen for him.

Free will is nothing but a cruel illusion. Only Fate and God's will matter. It pains me to watch Humans stubbornly believe that they are in control of their destiny, when everything has been written hundreds of thousands of years ago.

We remain silent while the croaking noise rises to us, getting louder by the minute. As time drains by, shadows stretch out on the ground following the path of the sun. At Pharaoh's request, Moses and Aaron are walking to the palace, frogs hopping out of their way, fearing the power of the holy weapon.

Anna bends over to listen to the conversation. Pharaoh appears to be in a state of sheer panic, icy sweat glistering on his dark skin.

"Oh. He's surrendering." Her Grace brightens with relief. " Good thing he did, the next plagues to come were terrible."

She raises an arm and lowers it slowly. Silence falls as all the summoned frogs drop dead and the Nile reverts to its clear blue color. Her wings relax instantly.

"Once the chosen people has been set free, we will be able to teach them Father's instructions. His Ten Commandments."

* * *

_ **The Garrison as well as Hester and Virgil are called for a crisis meeting, room 3609.** _

I look up to the sky, ceasing my study of the behavior of Eve's creatures among Humans. My wings unfurl with a soft rustle and the next second I'm slicing through the air. A crisis meeting? Did the Mother of Monsters break her oath? It can't be, the creatures I have observed display a moderate appetite and are turning a reasonable number of humans, just like she promised.

I am the first one to show up in the meeting room. Anna is standing there, three Angels I have never seen before at her side.

"Sit down, Castiel," the General orders in a harsh voice.

I promptly obey, a hundred questions running through my head.

Anna seems on edge. Her Grace is swirling in her body ferociously - bluish bubbles are building up and throbbing inside her arms, and the feathers on her wings are puffing up. She is radiating anger, I can almost feel the waves.

Uriel joins us and takes a seat, scrutinizing the three unknown Angels, his purple eyes narrowing. I can't help sharing his suspicion. There is something off-putting about them.

I have never seen Angels so diametrically disparate in their posture and behavior. There is a pretentious glare in the first one's silver eyes. The second one is fidgeting and turning his head all around with amazement. The third is standing as still as a rock, staring into the distance with red eyes. I take a closer look - indeed, his eyes are glowing red like a blaze of fire.

Uriel looses interest in them when Virgil shows up and sits next to him. They're having a whispered conversation while our other brothers join in one by one. Hester sits beside me, winking at me with a warm look in his eyes.

Zedekiel is the last to arrive, feathers all ruffled, and takes his place while muttering a lame apology.

"Pharaoh has broken his promise." It's obvious Anna meant for her voice to be neutral, but it vibrates with frustration anyway. "Once again, he refuses to let the people go."

Silence.

Uriel clasps his hands evenly.

"I'm not surprised. A sworn oath taken by a Human is meaningless."

Virgil nods in agreement.

"The higher chain of command had warned me that it would take a strong hand to persuade him, and I assumed that blood and frogs had been enough to make him see reason… I had already started writing the mission report!" Anna huffs. "I was not expecting a breach of oath."

"Come on, dear," Balthazar says in a sweet tone. "There's nothing to be alarmed about, a few more of these plagues should convince him, don't you think? As I told you before, the thing about Humans is that you have to impress them, show them who's the boss! Blood and frogs are all very sweet, but it's not much more _wahoooo_ than what Pharaoh's wizards are capable of doing..."

Anna looks away in dejection.

"Just before I called you here, I ordered Moses and Aaron to infest Egypt with horseflies and vermin, as I was instructed. However, should Pharaoh persist in resisting God's will, then the outcome will be merciless, and there will be collateral damage."

"There always is," Uriel says dismissively.

"I don't think you realize how bad the situation is, Uriel. We will be ordered as a last resort to slaughter every firstborn child of every family in Egypt. With our own hands."

I clench my fists to refrain from voicing my disapproval. I cannot discuss orders. Orders are orders.

"So what?"

Taken aback by Uriel's harsh tone, Anna blinks and tilts her head.

"If the orders are to slay infants, animals or anything else, so be it," Uriel adds confidently. "We are soldiers, that's our duty. For it is the will of _God_."

Carrying out God's will by slaughtering innocent animals and children, solely to make one Human yield? Are we soldiers or executioners?

We must obey God's will. I know that. But why does it require the sacrifice of so many innocent people? Why does Father repeatedly destroy His own work of art over and over again?

"And it is about time that Humans learn their place, and that they owe God fear, respect and devotion!"

Uriel's voice thunders in the room, tinged with jubilation, and no one contests his words. Even Anna remains silent, staring at Uriel as though she has never seen him before.

I'd rather keep my thoughts for myself. I can still hear Siosp screaming in agony as His Grace was burning and falling in a slow rain of ashes.

Much like Pharaoh, Angels have no choice. We _must_ have faith in God's plan, in God's existence, because voicing even the slightest doubt, the slightest hesitation – as Siosp did – is a death sentence.

I love my Father with all my being, I have never doubted and will never doubt His existence, but knowing that if doubt were to take hold of me as it did to Siosp, I would be put to death...

It makes me uneasy.

No.

It terrifies me.

The General's Grace is swirling and clouding, but she quickly puts herself together. Her posture stiffens.

"Indeed. But I would like not to come to such extremities."

Virgil darts an intense look at her.

"Pharaoh is a stubborn being who thinks himself more powerful than God. Killing firstborns is merely a display of strength - a lesson in humility - a very lenient one. And it is necessary. We have to obey."

"Of course we will obey. But that doesn't mean we should enjoy it."

That was Levanael talking. He is staring unblinkingly at Virgil who meets his gaze with a cold expression in his eyes.

I share a look with Zedekiel who seems to be totally confused.

"We're not there yet," says Anna. "The horseflies and vermin might be convincing enough. Let's move on to the second announcement I have to make."

She narrows her green eyes at us, her wings tightening in her back.

"The chain of command has finally granted us the reinforcements I have been requesting since the Apocalypse. While I had expected a more... _significant_ number, three new soldiers are joining the Garrison. Unlike Hester and Virgil, they won't go back to their original division. The transfer is permanent. I expect you to welcome them into the group."

One of the three Angels snorts loudly when Anna motions to him to step forward, which he does with obvious reluctance.

"This is Rzionr Nrzfm from the Insect Division. An excellent soldier, according to his former commander."

Zedekiel greets him with a hand wave, but the new soldier turns his head away with an irritated swirl in his Grace.

"This is Pmox," Anna continues, "former soldier from the Plankton Division, who is also joining us."

Our General doesn't seem satisfied with the new recruits, judging by the way her Grace is clouding when Pmox steps forward eagerly.

"Hello everyone! My name is Pmox, and I reaaaally can't wait to fight at your side, brothers!"

Uriel drags his hand over his face, wings tensing behind his back. "Great. He's annoying me already."

Virgil leans over to Uriel and whispers low, but I manage to grasp his words:

"The hierarchy is sending you Heaven's simpletons and rejects. I told you, Uriel, things are starting to change up there, and Humans are now becoming undesirables..."

"Silence," Anna interrupts exasperatedly. "And finally, this is Baradiel, formerly of the Rock Division. He is one of the oldest Angels created. His wisdom and experience will be most useful to us."

The Angel steps forward stiffly and gives a short nod as greetings.

_"His eyes are red!" _Zedekiel blurts out.

"Yes, and?" says Balthazar. "Have you never seen red-eyed angels before? There are not many of them, but a few of the older ones are like this."

Zedekiel's Grace starts fizzling with embarrassed bubbles. He glances at Baradiel whose gaze is impassive but... unsettling. I could swear I see fire dancing in his red glowing eyes.

"Uh… no. A red-eyed Angel, it's... abnormal, right? A bit _demonic?_"

Anna turns to look at Balthazar, apparently just as clueless as we are. It is comforting to realize I'm not the only one wondering.

"Oh _come on!_" Balthazar says dramatically. "Am I the only Angel in Heaven to educate myself at all and use the library? Don't tell me you still haven't figured out where your eye color comes from?"

Everyone falls silent, and Baradiel is the only one who looks like he knows what Balthazar is talking about. Ephra is leaning forward, his wings twitching restlessly.

I’m getting curious now. Is the color of our eyes of any particular significance?

"Honestly, I’m embarrassed on your behalf. This is truly a disgrace."

"Stop delaying and just tell us, Balthazar," Anna orders, narrowing her eyes.

Balthazar rises up oh so slowly to make us wait a few seconds more.

"Our eye color is the result of a chemical reaction inside our Grace at the exact instant of our creation. Remember the very first thing you saw. Your Grace has absorbed its color and preserved it. For instance, the splendid green and pink nuances of my tourmaline eyes that make all my charm come from the lake near which I was created, at sunset. And our dear friend Baradiel was created…"

"… inside an erupting volcano, indeed."

Baradiel's voice is deep, echoing in our stunned silence.

"I was created in a tropical forest..." Anna murmurs thoughtfully.

_The ocean battered by storm and lightning._

_A dark blue-grey water mass._

_Raw purity and serenity infused with power._

The first glimpse of Father's work that I laid eyes on has been imprinted in me forever.

A sense of longing seizes me. My brothers are as silent as I am, and judging by the distant look in their eyes, they have been, just like me, thrown millions of years ago through their memories. To a time when Humans were mere crawling fish, when the Earth was united, with no Hell or Heaven, when Lucifer was our inspiration, radiant and infallible...

Suddenly Anna stiffens, a finger on her temple as she raises one hand to get our attention.

"Aaron and Moses are praying to me, they say that Pharaoh is promising again to set the people free. I’m heading back to write my report, let’s hope this time he will keep his word."

She flies away in a rustle of feathers, leaving us to face the three new soldiers in an uncomfortable silence. We share a few looks but no one seems willing to engage.

"Tell me, Pmox…" Zedekiel finally speaks out. "Is it true what everyone says about the plankton division, that it's so dull you could die of boredom?"

Pmox jumps up to Zedekiel, spreading and folding his wings excitedly.

"Understatement, my good friend! My only distraction was to listen to rumors about you. I am so pleased to join you, I have been dreaming of this for thousands of years! I know everything about you and your adventures, your missions are so fascinating!"

Pmox chuckles quite inappropriately for a warrior of the Lord, which makes Zedekiel cringe and step back in embarrassment. He’s acting and sounding like a low-rank Cherub. This isn't an appropriate behavior for an Angel of our rank.

Uriel gets up and blatantly ignores Pmox.

"Enough chattering. We have horseflies and vermin to get rid of, even though I'm willing to bet that liar of a Pharaoh will break his oath again."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did," Rzionr Nrzfm snarls. "Using horseflies and vermin was a stupid idea. Except for causing some skin rashes, they are harmless. It would have been better to send them magnan ants, wasps and some of these little beauties that would have cleaned your Humans to the bone in a few seconds."

Baradiel remains indifferent while Rzionr Nrzfm starts listing all the insect species that can kill Humans, and Pmox jumps from one Angel to another to talk at length about our former missions.

"Good luck for the integration of your dead weights!" says Hester, patting me on the back with his wing.

"Thank you."

Better get out of here before Pmox tries to talk to me.

* * *

"It's a good thing Hester's not here…"

Rachel agrees with a nod, his eyes lowered to watch the animals dying in the mud, screeching in pure agony while the hailstorm is hammering their bodies so violently it pierces through the skin and splashes blood everywhere.

"He would have every reason to be angry," says Levanael. "Animals and Humans alike are paying for Pharaoh's obstinacy."

"How can Humans accept such a ruler who is unable to honor his word and who lets them die without lifting a finger?"

The Humans are hiding in their homes, their skin covered in blisters and boils that make them whimper and cry out in pain. Mothers are holding their children in their arms with tears streaming down their faces.

"What about us? How can we do the exact same thing?"

That was Levanael talking. He is staring down at the ground unblinkingly, a hard look in his brown and green eyes. The hail is pounding his body, water running down his face and arms like waterfalls of light.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asks Rachel in a suspicious tone.

"Our Father let Siosp die. And Riemu. Ecaop. Hcoma. Yasen. And thousands of our brothers, even though His intervention could have prevented their death. Camael has been in solitary confinement for centuries, almost a thousand years now. How can we keep obeying Him and perpetrating atrocities in His name when we have never seen Him and probably _never_ will?"

His voice breaks on those last words, tainting the stormy air with a hint of sorrow.

As Rachel's steel eyes cloud, he averts his gaze and clenches his fists. He remains silent for a few seconds and then replies in a resigned tone: "We were created to obey, Levanael. We are nothing more than weapons to our Father. To obey Him blindly is all we can do. We cannot inspire Him the kind of love He has for Humans, but we can at least bring Him satisfaction, serve Him, and not incite His wrath."

Levanael gives out a hollow laugh.

"If we were to cause His wrath, then perhaps He would at least acknowledge our existence, if not love us."

"Like Lucifer did?" I say in a severe tone. "You need to pull yourself together, Levanael. We are Warriors of God, and Lucifer’s treason is _not_ an example for us to follow. We will serve God until the end of times, because we believe in Him, not to beg for crumbs of the attention He gives to Humans. Faith is about believing unconditionally. Devotion requires obedience without expecting anything in return."

Deep inside, I don’t really feel the confidence that can be heard in my voice.

For I would give everything to meet Father, just once. To have His eyes laid upon me, to have Him tell me that my existence matters to Him, at least a little. It is a haunting and aching hope that I can only convey by carrying out the missions as best I can. By being useful to Him.

With time, I’ve come to understand Father's interest in His latest creations: they are complex, unpredictable, inventive and fascinating.

But we are His children too.

"Castiel is right, we can do better," Rachel says.

Levanael nods, his eyes riveted on the Humans writhing in pain and the agonizing cattle.

"Sometimes…" Levanael’s voice, barely above a whisper, is drown out in the pounding sound of hail hitting the ground. "Sometimes… I think that if the Humans had never existed… Father would have loved _us_."

His words strike me as the hail keeps falling on us relentlessly.

"These are thoughts we cannot afford, Levanael," I say quietly.

"I know. And I would never disobey orders. But… there are times when… I understand why Lucifer rebelled."

Levanael looks so ashamed of his own admission that I choose not to say anything. We remain silent for a while, watching Aaron and Moses as they return to the Palace to collect Pharaoh's answer.

"He's once again promising to release the people," Rachel says. "I'll notify Anna immediately."

And he's gone in a snap of wings, so fast that I could swear he's flying away from the words our brother should never have spoken out loud.

Levanael looks up to the sky, letting the hail whip his face.

"I wish Siosp were here…"

His words fade into the thundering darkness.

* * *

** _The Garrison is requested urgently, room 3609._ **

Miz and I gaze away from Eve's creature that has just turned into a wolf at full moon, and we immediately spread our wings to launch ourselves into the cold air of the night.

When we get there, the meeting room is very quiet. The General is standing with her four hands flat on the table and her head down. Which is not a good sign.

Once we're all here, Anna lifts her head.

"Pharaoh went back on his word a few days earlier, and as you already know, we invaded the lands with grasshoppers and then with darkness until he yielded and the preparations for the people's departure began. But once again, he has just backed down from the agreement."

A loud and outraged sound breaks the silence – that was Pmox, he looks like he is shocked to the fullest extent. He is the only one who can still be surprised by Pharaoh's changes of heart.

"Well, I told you so, grasshoppers aren't enou..."

"Be quiet, Rzionr Nrzfm!" Anna interrupts exasperatedly. "I have gathered you because after long meetings with the hierarchy, my requests for a exemption for the next plague or for altering Pharaoh's memory have failed. We have to carry out the last plague ourselves. And orders are orders."

Uriel nods with a pleased look as I exchange a glance with Rachel and Levanael.

"I have already sent Hester and Virgil to tell the chosen people that in order to be spared, they need to mark the door of their house with the blood of a lamb. Don't ask me why, it is destiny, it is not to be questioned," says Anna with an annoyed twitch of her wings.

"I imagine Hester wasn't exactly overjoyed to hear this," Balthazar points out in a playful tone. "I know how much she cares about lambs and baby animals on a general level…"

"All the more so since Humans won't be the only ones to die at midnight. First-born animals will also be slaughtered. Anyway, I suggest that we proceed fast and efficiently, without inflicting any unnecessary pain on the victims. It is night time in Egypt at the moment. We will strike them in their sleep. It shouldn't take more than a few seconds for us to get it done. Be ready to leave at once."

"What, now?" Pmox bounces off his chair, his wings shivering with alarm. "This is my very first mission where action is required. I mean, _real_ action! Well, we did have a good laugh in my division during the Flood… As for the Apocalypse, we were not even called in, supposedly because the natural balance of plankton would be crucial for rebuilding life, so all we did was listen to the rumors from the depths of the ocean, very frustrating! The extinction of the related branch of plankton during the last great glaciation does not count, I was…"

"I'll handle our overexcited new recruit," Miz declares with a hint of amusement in his flat voice.

It has been centuries since we last heard his voice. He grabs Pmox's shoulder and spreads his wings, ready to fly.

"It is midnight. Get in formation, soldiers! Follow me! The orders are to kill all first-born babies, humans and animals alike, who are not in a house marked with lamb's blood," Anna shouts in a strong but dispassionate tone.

Within seconds, we descend into Egypt and split up to cover the area bathed in moonlight. I reach down to locate the houses whose doors are not marked with lamb's blood. Then, I methodically stop the heart of every firstborn with a brush of finger, trying not to see their memories in the process.

It is not my place to form a value judgment on what we are doing. I am the arm of God, and God wants these children, these animals to die. I am a Warrior, a weapon.

My siblings are doing their share too, and hundreds, thousands of souls are rising from the lifeless bodies, soon snatched up by the white shadows of Reapers, silently roaming the alleys.

And I keep bringing death to these children and animals, including newborn infants.

I can’t afford to have second thoughts. Orders are orders.

The Palace is right under my hand. Pharaoh's son is sleeping in his bed, breathing peacefully with an innocent smile on his face.

"I am sorry..." I whisper, before I make his heart stop.

I rise slowly and turn my head to the rest of the Garrison. Together, we listen to the poignant cries and laments filling the night, and I shove back down all unnecessary regrets. A soldier has no cause for regret.

* * *

"I knew he would change his mind again," Uriel brags while the water of the river flows apart as Moses, Aaron and their newly freed people walk through it.

Zedekiel squints at the six hundred chariots, horsemen and Pharaoh's army raising clouds of dust and gradually gaining ground on their targets.

"Are we really allowed to help them escape, now that Pharaoh has changed his mind again?"

Anna shakes her head and watches the former slaves step on dry ground between two walls of flowing water.

"Once they are free and on the move, free will is no longer an issue, Zed. I have been told so by the hierarchy."

Zedekiel tilts his head, narrowing his ice-blue eyes.

"I really don't understand a thing about free will... It's just too complicated for me."

"Rest assured, Zedekiel, no one can figure it out," Baradiel says, "I personally think that free will is just a fleeting trend that the higher chain of command will grow tired of eventually."

"Freedom is overrated," says Balthazar. "Look at them running and sweating. Were they not better off under Pharaoh's protection? Now they will have to look for a new tyrant. They need it, it is in their nature: they aspire for servitude."

"They are not all that different from us in some respects... We also need a leader, a shepherd, just like they do."

"Are you implying that God is our tyrant? Oh! Blasphemy, my dear Leva, blasphemy!" Balthazar says in an indignant tone, plastering one hand on his chest and widening his eyes excessively.

Levanael was about to defend himself when Pmox drops himself to the ground, sticking his face just above the water to observe the action as closely as he can.

"Pharaoh's army is moving into the passage! They're going to catch them! Run away, tiny Humans, run away!"

Anna whacks him on the head with her wing.

"Behave like a soldier of God, Pmox, with dignity! And have no fear, the waters will close in on the pursuers. It is in the program."

Pmox stands up, his Grace fizzling with contrition, but still radiating with enthusiasm. Uriel snickers when the water walls collapse and crash onto Pharaoh's army, swallowing them whole.

"Well, good riddance. You may return to your positions, soldiers. I will ensure that God's commandments are passed on to the Humans, and then I will finally get to close the file on this mission. Good work, everyone. Dismissed!"

* * *

After centuries of constant confrontation, the two human armies are facing each other, spears and swords in hand, standing on two opposite hills in the valley.

Throughout the surface of the Earth, Humans frequently tear each other apart over territory, revenge, harvests, and sometimes even in the name of the Lord or other divinities born of their fertile minds. But this is all just excuses. No matter how wonderful their sense of aesthetics and poetry are, and that sometimes they display treasures of art and compassion that border on the divine, the thirst for war and violence runs in their veins. It has been more than two hundred years since the Pharaoh debacle, and humanity has not made any progress at all. In the end, the mission was a failure: the newly freed people were unable to embrace God in their hearts, and were quick to idolize other imaginary deities. Instilling Faith on Earth is a more arduous task than we had expected – for devotion is an innate part of Angels.

In contrast, the hearts of Humans are unreliable and unfaithful.

A human being who is much taller and larger than the others steps forward from the ranks. He introduces himself as Goliath and offers to settle the conflict with a single combat to avoid a bloodshed. A young boy named David rises to the challenge, but Goliath refuses to fight a child, which is admirable on his part. Annoyance ripples through my Grace when David claims to have God at his side, and knocks the man down with a stone to the head using a slingshot.

Will this constant urge to blame or glorify God for trivial things never cease?

God was never on his side. The child is skilled and resourceful, that's all.

"Castiel."

That was Anna's voice, I didn't hear her come over the clamors of victory and the hasty retreat of the defeated. She's staring at me unblinkingly, then glances up at the cloudy sky. A shining figure is approaching, and all of a sudden, Rachel is landing right in front of us, folding his wings.

"A meeting, Anna? _Here?_"

Anna nods, frustration flashing through her dark green eyes.

"It's exceptional, yes. Rgoan scheduled a meeting with the hierarchy in room 3609 - _our_ room - without giving me prior notice and without respecting the timetable. We will have to do this here."

More figures emerge from the skyline, and seconds later, the entire Garrison, including Hester and Virgil, is surrounding Anna.

"Good. I wish we had better conditions, but this valley will have to do. I have some news for you, both good and bad." After a short silence, her voice is warmer when she resumes. "It's about Camael. The hierarchy has agreed to give him a second chance, the possibility of redemption and God's forgiveness."

A murmur runs through my siblings, and my Grace lights up with joy.

"But," Anna interrupts us by lifting her hand, "he will have to earn his forgiveness. A very important mission will be assigned to him. I don't know all the details yet - everything is still very confidential - but within a century or two he will bear a heavy burden of responsibility, and he will need to do it alone."

"What kind of mission?" asks Levanael.

The General's eyes darken.

"All I know is that it will be of the greatest importance. Which brings me to the bad news. He is spared execution and rehabilitation, but for this mission, and also as punishment for his crimes, Camael will have his Grace ripped away. Which means that he will be born and walk the earth among Humans as one of them. After a few years, he will no longer remember his true nature."

A shocked silence falls upon us.

"So we will no longer be allowed to treat him like our brother?" I ask. "Or at least help him in his mission?"

"We will have frequent contacts with him to guide him, but we will have to treat him like any other Human. Under no circumstances will you reveal his true nature to him. Besides, you will no longer be able to call him _Camael_."

"Then how should we call him?"

"Jesus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"But Michael and Raphael said-"_
> 
> _"I don’t give a flying rat’s ass about what Michael and Raphael said! I am still your superior, so just do as I say, period. I don't need a flock of giant ducklings following me around and watching everything I do. I order you very officially to get lost. Shoo!"_


	20. The Annunciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Siosp has been executed by Michael for doubting God's existence, and since then, Castiel lives in constant fear of doubting again. He obeys in Egypt by killing firstborns. Three new soldiers (Pmox, Baradiel, Rzionr Nrzfm) joined the Garrison. Anna has announced that Camael will be forgiven by completing a mission on Earth. But for this, he will have his Grace ripped away and be born as a Human, under the name of Jesus.

I should be used to it by now. After all, it's the second time in the last six months that I've witnessed such an event. And yet, the radiant Grace of the Archangel Gabriel becoming liquid and falling like a waterfall on a human vessel is still such a spectacular sight.

The Galilee seems quite dark after this tiny flesh and blood figure has absorbed all this pure, liquid light energy. The facial expression of the young man who accepted the divine mission and the immense honor of welcoming an Archangel into his body shifts from beatitude to a sullen frown. Surrounded by the entire Garrison in a valley towering over the city of Nazareth, Gabriel dusts his tunic and cracks his knuckles while stretching his vaporous wings in his back.

"Not bad." His voice is raspy, his vessel being barely out of adolescence. "This one is a better fit than last time, but still a bit tight."

Balthazar stoops to take a closer look.

"For the next generations, I will work on preparing about a dozen more for you, with Samandriel's help. In time I'll find you a suitable vessel that can survive the experiment."

Gabriel runs a hand through his long brown hair, casually glancing at the dark skin of his forearm. Now that Gabriel inhabits it, there is an aura of power and casual charisma radiating from this lanky body whose limbs seem to have grown too fast.

"Well!" he claps his hands resolutely. "Anyway, I’ve got _yet another_ Human to knock up. Better get to work now."

We all unfold our wings, ready to follow the Archangel to the city of Nazareth where our mission is awaiting us. However, rather than flying away, Gabriel looks up at us and arches an eyebrow.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

The sarcasm in his voice is so obvious Anna startles as though she’s been slapped across the face.

"Our mission is to follow you, to witness the miracle and to write a report that will be sent to the Archives and later reinserted into the dreams of the Prophets. That is how we proceeded for the first trial with Zechariah's wife."

Down on the ground, Gabriel snorts and crosses his arms.

"I didn't ask you to parrot the mission order to me. The test was positive with Elizabeth and my new vessel is better adjusted to my Grace, I have more control now so there is no risk that I will accidentally make Mary mute too. I no longer require to be coddled."

"But Michael and Raphael said-"

"I don’t give a flying rat’s ass about what Michael and Raphael said! I am still your superior, so just do as I say, period. I don't need a flock of giant ducklings following me around and watching everything I do. I order you very officially to get lost. Shoo!"

A murmur runs through the Garrison as we glance at each other. Our General is rigid, clearly displeased, judging by the flow of her Grace inside her body.

"Very well. But it is still mandatory that one of us goes with you to witness the miracle, write and file the report. That's the procedure."

Once again Gabriel resorts to human facial expressions, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly.

"Right. Then only one Angel will have the inestimable honor of tailing me. You, there, you will do just fine."

I blink when the Archangel's tiny vessel points at me with a careless thumb gesture. All eyes are on me.

"I trust you to observe the miracle and write it properly in your report."

I nod, acutely aware of the heavy responsibility that now rests on my shoulders. For this is a priority mission, unlike the announcement to Zechariah, which was only a test to ensure that it was possible to make a uterus fertile, even on a very old, sterile woman, so that Camael could be implanted in Mary's womb successfully.

I silently gaze at my brothers in arms as they fly away, their winged figures merging into the glow of the sun, and then I look down again at the Archangel Gabriel. He is on his way down the valley to the city of Nazareth. So does he plan to walk there? Why would he do that, when he could appear before Mary with just a flapping of his wings?

"Tell me, Castiel, what do you think of the punishment that has been chosen for Camael?"

For a second there, I wonder how comes the Archangel Gabriel knows my name. Perhaps he remembers our brief conversation about Cain and Abel's offerings, but it is more likely he knows me from the trial during which the Archangels judged Camael and I.

Could it be that he picked me to assist him for this reason?

"What I think is irrelevant," I say cautiously. "It is the divine Will, and the Lord works in mysterious ways."

Gabriel makes an annoyed gesture as he steps through the tall grass, drawing a trail in the valley.

"Spare me the boring preaching and high praises to Daddy. Tell me what you _really_ think."

There is something unsettling about looking down on this tiny person on the ground, while being intimately aware that he holds enough power to wipe me out of existence with a mere snap of his fingers. Gabriel might sound less formal and distant than Michael, but he is still an Archangel, one of the most fearsome weapons of Creation, one of God's eldest sons.

Siosp has been executed for blaspheming in front of the Archangels. I can't afford to let even the slightest hint of doubt filter through.

"It is a merciful punishment," I say as I strive to keep the movements of my Grace in check. "Camael rebelled, his lies put Michael in a dangerous situation and caused a valuable weapon to be lost to Heaven. Instead of execution, our Father is granting him a chance to preach the Holy Word and instill His worship among the Humans. This is a good thing."

For every five hundred steps Gabriel takes, only one from me is sufficient. He has reached the gravel path now, at this rate we should soon arrive in the city.

"I was opposed to it." Gabriel throws me a sharp look. "A good old-fashioned execution would have been neater and faster. I was the one who gave Camael the idea of the seal he used on Cain, so it's partly because of me that he's in this situation today. Tearing an Angel's Grace off and shoving it into a Human's uterus? And making him a Messiah so the Humans will worship Dad by following a bunch of rules? I love my brothers, but there are times when I have this overwhelming urge to bang their heads together..."

If any Angel of my rank dared to question the decisions of God and the Archangels like this, he would be immediately sent to rehabilitation or executed on the spot. I can't help but tighten my wings behind my back uneasily. I cannot give an Archangel a call to order, nor agree with his discourse.

"As an Angel of the Garrison..." I say in a whisper that fuses with the wind, "I believe Camael will be proud to bring Faith to these creatures that we have seen evolve over millions of years. That God judges them worthy to worship Him is an accomplishment in itself."

"Some accomplishment here. And until then, I'm on insemination duty like a common bull."

A man pulling a cart takes a puzzled look at Gabriel, probably wondering why is this boy talking to himself. The first stone-built structures appear, and we enter Nazareth. The Archangel is striding resolutely towards the house where the young Mary lives - she is there, surrounded by chickens and feeding them by tossing seeds around.

"Alright, sweet Mary," he says bluntly as he reaches her. "Let me lay it out for you."

The young girl yelps when the Archangel slips an arm over her frail shoulders, his wings showing up clearly on his shadow at their feet.

"Hey! Let me go! Who are you?"

Gabriel's grip is so strong that she can't free herself, and she drops her basket of seeds on the ground - immediately, a bunch of chickens eagerly rush in around their feet.

"I am the Archangel Gabriel. You have been chosen by God, great honor, blessing, yadda yadda yadda. In nine months you will spawn a kid you will call Jesus, who will be great and will be the son of the Almighty. Questions?"

The young woman stops struggling and stares at him with wide, dismayed eyes.

"What? How could I be pregnant when I'm a virgin?"

A glimmer ignites in the palm of the Archangel's hand. Camael's holy spirit, fragile and stripped of its Grace.

"I managed to make your old aunt Elizabeth fertile six months ago, there's nothing I can't do."

He presses his hand flat against Mary's belly, and the holy spirit sinks through fabric and skin effortlessly. She falls to her knees in shock, and yelps again when Gabriel disappears before her eyes in a fluttering of wings.

He reappears perched on my shoulder, so light in his vessel. There is an austere look on his face as he looks up to me.

"Keep what I told you earlier to yourself, brother. I need you to write a positive report on this miracle, otherwise Michael and Raphael will pester me even more, they already don't trust me since what happened with Cain."

"Understood."

"See you around, Castiel!"

He disappears and I remain there for a long time, looking down at Mary who is stroking her belly with a disbelieving look.

I will have to embellish my report with plenty of praises to God for it to be approved by the Archives.

* * *

Balthazar is hovering high in the sky, so slowly that he appears to be static. Invisible to human eyes, he holds a sphere of light in his hand, so bright it eclipses the radiance of his Grace. From afar I can see him moving through the night sky, leading to the East the Three Kings who believe they are following the star which appeared in the omens that we massively diffused in the dreams of Humans in recent decades.

Balthazar has been put in charge of the communication strategy towards Humans to make them receptive to the word of God that Camael - _Jesus_ \- will teach them. Once again, he is directly involved in the highest command of a mission with his expertise. Judging by the fervor among the Humans since the... _birth_ of our brother, these efforts have been fruitful. The very sight or even the mere evocation of the infant unleashes passions. And now, kings and crowds are traveling to come and worship him.

I look down to the three Humans walking with their arms full of gifts and their eyes riveted to the light leading them to Cam- _Jesus_. That name... it means "God gives salvation", and I hope it bodes well for the future. This mission shouldn't last longer than a human lifespan, which is a few decades. Camael's unfortunate situation is only temporary. He will retrieve his Grace eventually and rejoin the Garrison once his mission is completed. Faith will spread to mankind and - _finally_ \- all Creation will be united in the love of the Lord.

The Three Wise Men are walking in a single file, drawing a trail of trampled grass behind them. The soft tones of my brothers' voices are echoing through my head as the wind blows ripples over the grass. Some are singing Father's praises with fierce devotion, while others speak of Camael and the new era that will open for us all. An era where, as it was in the past, there will be no Hell and no Heaven, and where we will all live united in the love of the Father.

I look up at the shining orb which has stopped, having reached its destination.

And for the first time in thousands of years, I find myself feeling hope.

* * *

"But... Why are they doing this? Why would they slaughter their own kind, especially newborn infants?"

Crouched down with his head lowered, Pmox is staring in bewilderment at the human army as they methodically slay all male children under the age of two.

"Humans are much more complex than plankton, Pmox."

Pmox looks up with wide, sad eyes at me.

"But _why?_"

I silently avert my eyes as crying mothers hold their inert, bloody children against them, and fathers are killed when they try to resist the armed soldiers. This is not the first time I've witnessed injustice, wars, slaughters and brutalities, and I have had my own share of responsibility in Egypt for obeying orders. Yet it is hard for me to remain unaffected by such a scene, the suffering of these mothers, the turmoil of these families, the terror of the children... and I can see the guilt of the soldiers in their troubled souls. They are obeying not because they understand or approve but because orders are orders.

I see in those confused but inflexible soldiers a sick mockery of my siblings and I. But I can't make such a farfetched analogy. For even if we do not understand the orders, they come from God, and therefore are right. And Father is nothing like Herod, King of Judea.

I squint and look up at the misty horizon.

Ephra moves closer to Pmox and lays a comforting hand on the top of his head.

"It's very simple, Pmox. Any collective survival instinct that Humans used to have in the past has been extinguished by their selfishness. They consider their own interests before what's best for their species. The king of this land has heard the omens and feared that the glory of Jesus would make him lose his hold over his people."

Pmox blinks and lowers his head quietly, looking even more lost. He clearly did not understand a word of it. This is not surprising coming from an Angel who has watched for millions of years over microscopic organisms, which, while essential to the balance of life, lack free will and a conscience. Humans, on the other hand, are so diverse, creative and unpredictable...

"Don't worry," I say softly. "They will enter Heaven and rest in peace."

That's what I keep telling myself each time I witness innocent people die a violent death. After all, the lives of Humans on earth are but a brief test to determine whether their place belongs in Heaven or Hell. No infant soul goes to Hell, because nothing has stained it yet.

Once Camael has fulfilled his mission, peace and harmony will rule over all of Creation. There will be no more suffering. No more doubt. No more unforeseen events. Everything will be perfect - as it once was, long before the Garrison was created, according to what Hester and Baradiel told me.

There is a group of women sneaking along the walls and hiding in shadows in an attempt to hide from the troops roaming the city. They're holding infants wrapped in blankets tight against their chest, shaking with sheer terror, tears rolling down their cheeks. From where we stand, we can see that they are unknowingly heading towards soldiers around the corner. Pmox reaches out to them, but pauses. He withdraws his fingers and shuts his eyes, probably not to watch the impending bloodshed.

Their cries and pleas are so loud, and it is not long before the ground absorbs warm blood. All of Herod's kingdom is swarming with pale and misty shadows taking hold of the children's souls one by one.

Thankfully, Jesus is not in any danger. We have warned Joseph about this through a dream, and they have fled to Egypt to be safe.

Ephra pats Pmox's head one last time before giving me a serious look.

"Let us hope that Jesus will grow up safely and be able to carry out his mission. I fear that Camael's punishment and this conditional redemption will be a source of protest among our ranks. I heard whispers disapproving of the method, and I have to agree with them. Tearing off an Angel's Grace has never been done before, and a proper execution would be preferable. Less demeaning."

I draw my attention away from the city resounding with screams and laments.

"The punishment might be severe, but not as definitive as an execution. Not only will his Grace be returned to him, but he will have achieved great things: unifying Creation and leading the Way to Humans. Should they accept the Lord in their hearts and souls, the kind of violence we are currently witnessing will never happen again. Camael will come back to the Garrison cleared of his sins."

Ephra nods without conviction.

"I will be glad and relieved to have him back with us. We have been waiting for this for more than a thousand years. But until then, we have to watch him blend in with the Humans and we can't be of any help to him. Within a few years he will have lost his memories and true identity, and will really think he is one of them. I don't like that part. Camael is an Angel, the son of God, not a Human. No Angel should deny his nature, voluntarily or not.

"I would like to meet Camael." Pmox stands up with his back to the slaughter still happening down there. His eyes have regained their cheerful glow. "I have heard so much about him - as everyone else has - and I have prayed so many times for Father to forgive him! If only I could talk to Camael..."

"You can’t. It’s forbidden."

There is a hint of frustration in my voice, which shuts Pmox up. Humans are under our charge, Camael is our former brother in arms, yet none of us is allowed to get close, and we are not given any information.

I find this quite offensive.

The chain of command has decided that only high-ranking executives would be included in this critical mission, including Brap, Zachariah, and Anna, who is not authorized to provide us with the details of the plan.

All we know is that Camael – _Jesus_ – must bring Faith to Humans. Then again, if this was just about talking to the Humans, why couldn't Camael take a vessel? Why _become_ Human, have his Grace ripped away and his identity wiped out? Perhaps it's just a way to make his punishment an example...

I cut off the flow of my thoughts. There is no point.

None of this will be of any importance once Camael has completed the mission.

* * *

Adam smiles at Cain with fatherly love, leaning over to show him how to keep the fire going. Frowning in concentration, young Cain throws a log into the flames, trying not to smother them and not to burn his fingers. The crackling of the fire licking the bark and swirls of smoke rise into the rustic room. There are shadows dancing on the walls to the rhythm of Eve's lullaby.

Abel's eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks still holding the roundness of childhood. He snuggles up against his mother who smiles and keeps stroking his hair and humming her song, fingers dipping into the brown curls.

Everything is so peaceful.

I know it's only a memory. Abel's happiest memory, that he has been living over and over again since the day he died. It all looks so real that if I couldn't perceive the very slight translucency of the items, the landscape and this family, I could be fooled. But when I focus, I can see Abel's soul glowing peacefully and the hollow shapes surrounding him, all floating above the path that binds all human Paradises together – it's only an illusion replicating his happy memory in every detail, lost in a world of silence and void.

Abel is alone for the rest of eternity, neither his parents nor his brother will ever be able to join him. Eve has become one with the Mother of Monsters, Adam has been wiped out of existence, and Cain is doomed to wander the earth forever. Even if he managed to die at some point, he would go straight to Purgatory and not to Heaven. As for these mountains, this house, this wheat field swaying in the wind… the Apocalypse and the Flood have destroyed this landscape on Earth a long time ago.

At least, Abel is happy and unaware of any of this.

I turn to look at Uriel and Virgil. They are not paying attention to Abel's soul, and, standing in the fake landscape, they are talking to each other in a low voice. Our brothers from the Garrison arrive one by one in this Paradise, all of them throwing puzzled looks at Uriel.

Well, I'm waiting for an explanation too. Why did he summon us to join him here in secret, and more importantly, why did he tell us to keep Anna out of this? Usually, it is always Miz who calls us to witness all the Humans' absurdities behind our General's back. But we are inside a Paradise now, and judging by Uriel's contained anger radiating off him, it is not to tell us the goat incident joke once more – he is the best storyteller of us all, no one else can make us roar with laughter like he does.

Zedekiel arrives last with his feathers ruffled.

"What's going on, Uriel? It better be important, I was working on my report on human superstitions and beliefs for..."

"It is important," Uriel interrupts sharply. "I have summoned you here because no one will come to look for us here, in one of the earliest Paradises. The entire hierarchy is currently in a meeting, Anna won't notice we are missing from our stations. As you have noticed, there are unacceptable things happening."

Virgil is standing stiff by his side.

"If this is about Camael’s punishment _again_, we’ve talked about this before," Htmorda says, holding his head high. "I know you think that he is in a demeaning situation, but he only has a few years to live as a Human, and then he will come back to us. Is it too much to ask for a few decades without you bitching?"

Uriel’s purple eyes flash with anger as he snaps his wings open, radiating raw power.

Virgil holds him back with a mere hand gesture. "There’s more," he says sternly.

Glaring daggers at Htmorda, Uriel reluctantly folds his wings back. Then he turns his back on us, his feathers still puffed up angrily.

"Indeed," Uriel says in a restrained voice. "I heard whispers and I went back to their source. A second ranked Cherub from the Archives caught a glimpse of a meeting report that Zachariah was holding in his hand. He was only able to read a few words, but he's adamant. They are hiding things from us. The hierarchy is keeping us in the dark about Camael, even though we are directly involved."

"Stop stalling and tell us what you know already!" Zedekiel says restlessly.

"Camael's Grace has not been saved, the Archangels destroyed it. Camael's holy spirit is trapped in his hairless ape's body. He will live and die like a Human. He will never come back. _Ever_."

… _What?_

As I let it sink in, I remind myself of Gabriel's hand touching Mary's belly to implant the holy spirit of Camael inside. Was he aware at that moment he was sentencing Camael to a mortal’s life expectancy?

"Oh no..." Pmox gasps, sounding horrified.

Silence falls on the Garrison while Eve keeps singing softly and rocking Abel in the fake landscape.

"I suspected as much," Levanael says, staring dejectedly at the wheat field. "Siosp has been executed in agonizing pain over an instant of misguidedness. Obviously, Camael would not get away so easily."

"Wait, so that's why you made me come all the way here?" Rzionr Nrzfm snorts. "Don’t bother including me next time. I don't give a damn about human-loving rebels."

And on this note, he flies away, leaving Abel's Paradise.

"Rzionr Nrzfm has got a point," Rachel points out. "Camael put himself in this situation by prioritizing a Human – worse, a _Phoenix_ – over the Will of the Lord. He even came very close to killing Castiel. His fate is regrettable, but he deserves it."

"This isn't what it's about, Rachel!" Uriel snarls as he turns around, his eyes blazing with wrath. "Don't you see? Can't you see what's happening? Forget about Camael for a second and start _thinking_, brothers!"

"I don't understand," I say, genuinely confused.

"I don’t either," echo Pmox and Zedekiel.

"Stop focusing on the punishment and look further for the meaning behind! All I see is that the hierarchy - that our _Father_ is willing to sacrifice an Angel for the sole purpose of communicating with those arrogant and ignorant monkeys! In His eyes, we are less valuable than the evolution of a bunch of filthy, slimy fish! How long before He gets rid of us, once His favorites worship Him and He no longer has any use for us?"

"The Lord would never do such a thing," I protest, crossing my arms. "He is righteous. And He loves us."

Uriel sniggers.

"He loves the _Humans__!_ We are no longer worth anything ever since He created them! In fact, the Garrison was created only to serve them and help them proliferate and invade the planet!"

"That’s a lie!" Htmorda spits out, raising his voice to cover Uriel's. "I don't believe a word of it! Camael's Grace will be returned to him once he has brought Faith to Humanity, and Father will be grateful to us! A new era will come where all God's children will live in harmony as equals!"

"Right, and then we will all hold hands, surrounded by rainbows, and sing the praises of love and God," Balthazar mocks.

Htmorda chokes in anger, but Baradiel replies before he gets the chance to: "Our existence is meant to do the will of God. Even if He were to destroy us as He did for the dinosaurs, or to lock us away like the Leviathans, I would humbly accept my fate. Being around Humans so much, you have developed expectations that you shouldn't even begin to consider. Wishing to be loved by God? Do you even realize how arrogant this is?" He shakes his head disapprovingly. While his eyes blaze with fiery shades of molten lava, his bluish Grace is flowing through his body like a river pouring out of a mountain of ice. There is a stark contrast between his stoicism and our restlessness. "Disobeying or turning our backs on our Creator would break us in ways that death could never do, and in a much more definitive way. Death is only one step in the circle of life. Whereas we are nothing without God."

Htmorda and Rachel fervently nod at Baradiel's wise words, while Uriel lowers his head with a distraught, ashamed look. Virgil leans over to whisper a few words to him, and Uriel clenches his fists with some semblance of newfound confidence.

"Humans only live for a few decades..." Pmox says. "Does it mean that Camael will die soon? Is he going to Heaven the same way Humans do?"

"What? Of course not!" Balthazar replies. "Even trapped inside a shell of flesh and deprived of his Grace, Camael is still an Angel. He has no soul, but only a holy spirit that cannot survive without Grace or without a body to inhabit."

"So Camael cannot be saved?"

The answer to my question is clearly written in Balthazar's eyes, extinguishing the last glimmer of hope inside me.

"He can’t. Should the Grace be destroyed, a holy spirit can only survive inside a body until it dies."

I look down in silence.

"There is no point arguing about this," Zedekiel hisses fiercely. "I see no reason why the Archangels would have destroyed his Grace. This Cherub in the Archives must have misread, or he made it all up!"

"Absolutely!" Htmorda agrees. "Father is tough, but certainly not cruel!"

Levanael's wings twitch skeptically, but he remains silent.

"That’s true." Virgil stares us down coldly. "Or it would be if it _really_ were Father’s decision…"

He shares a look with Uriel, like they both know something that we don’t.

"If this rumor about Camael's Grace turns out to be true, what do you intend to do, Uriel?" Rachel asks defiantly.

Sadness flashes through Uriel's purple eyes and his wings slump.

"I don't know."

It is so unusual to see our brother who is always so self-assured like this, it silences us all. Only when Virgil lays his hand on Uriel's shoulder and flies away with him, do all my brothers leave Abel's Paradise in dismay.

I stay alone there, listening to Eve's crystal-clear voice humming her lullaby, the one Abel will be listening to for all eternity.

* * *

Rachel slams his fist on the table, rising up with his wings spread wide.

"No I won’t shut up, Anna! Not this time! We have a right to know, Camael is our _brother__!_"

"It's a matter of confidentiality, I can't tell you anything, and that's not the reason I called you here!"

A murmur of protest runs through our ranks, and Htmorda stands up as well, his amethyst-colored eyes flashing with indignation.

"Are the rumors correct, Anael? Has his Grace been destroyed? He's been born for four years now, and you're the only one who has ever seen him up close! Why are we being kept away, with are we forbidden to approach or talk to him?"

"My name is _Anna_," she snaps back, narrowing her eyes. "That's the name I chose for myself. Don't you ever call me Anael again."

Now it’s my turn to rise up to my feet.

"Answer our question." I stare unblinkingly at her. "Please, Anna."

My brothers follow my lead in a rustle of feathers. Anna's three green orbs widen at us with astonishment that quickly turns to anger.

"Sit down, soldiers, or I'll have to report your behavior."

"Camael is going to be sacrificed on the altar of Humanity, and you're condoning it?" Uriel spits out.

"He’s not being sacr-"

"Really? Then look us in the eye and give us your word in the name of the Lord that his Grace is safe and that he will get it back! Can you even do that?"

Anna averts her gaze wearily.

My Grace congeals with dread. Was Uriel right after all?

"So it is true!" Rachel exclaims in a horrified tone.

"SILENCE!" the General roars, startling us with a vibrating wave length of fury.

Her eyes are blazing as she stares us down.

"Don’t you remember what happened to Siosp?"

Silence.

She observes us for a few seconds.

"I understand your anger," she continues, her voice softening. "Camael is my brother too. But I don't ever want to see any of my soldiers be killed before my eyes again for talking when they should have kept quiet."

She lowers her gaze and sits down again, waving at us to do the same. Pmox complies eagerly, and so does Miz. Everyone else obeys reluctantly.

"If I were to disclose any confidential information, I would also be facing execution. I will only say what I am allowed to share with you."

** _Castiel…_ **

My eyes snap open at the crystalline voice that has just echoed through my head. Where did that voice come from? Why would an Angel try to contact me directly and not through my immediate superior?

No, it was not an Angel. This is a human voice... a child's voice... Could it be that someone is praying to me? That's impossible. There are no humans who know my name, I have never once been prayed to.

Anna doesn't seem to have noticed my confusion and keeps talking.

"All I can tell you is that Camael's mission is the latest attempt from Heaven to instill Faith, love and fear of the Lord in Humans."

_ **Castiel... ** **It’s me****. Camael.** _

** _Even if in this life I answer to the name of Jesus._ **

_Camael_.

I can hardly keep my wings still and control my Grace not to betray my shock. Camael, in his human body, is praying in Enochian. To me.

In a flash, I re-live our fight in the sky above Cain's terrified eyes, stripped of his memories.

Why would Camael want to talk to me? He tried to kill me. Does he still resent me for what I did to the Phoenix a thousand years ago?

"Regardless of whether the mission is a failure or a success, this is the last time we will operate directly on Earth," Anna continues. "We will then revert to a purely observatory mission, like in the past. The reason you are not involved in the mission is your reputation for insubordination. For such a small number of soldiers, we have a staggering rate of rebellions and insolence compared to other divisions. As a precaution, the hierarchy has prohibited any contact or communication between you and Camael until he loses his memories and identity. Only then will you be included in the mission."

_ **There is something I wanted to tell you****, Castiel.** _

The child's voice sounds like an autumn breeze in my head.

"And I expect you to behave with dignity, and obey without question! I won't allow any of you to be stupid enough to rebel and get killed: that's the last thing the Garrison needs!"

I should report the prayer to Anna. It is my duty. No contact with Camael is allowed. But as I rise to speak out…

** _Something I've wanted to tell you for the last thousand years._ **

** _Please listen to me without anger._ **

"Yes, Castiel?" Anna asks, her voice laced with a combination of surprise and irritation.

Wait. If I report this prayer, I will never know what my brother was going to tell me. Anna stares at me unblinkingly, waiting for me to say something.

I slowly sit back down.

After all... it is forbidden for us to approach or contact Camael, not the other way around... I am not disobeying by remaining silent. I have not received any specific order to report an attempted contact from Camael.

"Cas?" Levanael whispers to me.

All my siblings are watching. I have to say something.

"When will Camael lose his memory?" I say to explain why I intervened.

** _I injured you, I nearly killed you, when all you did was obey orders..._ **

** _I am so sorry for that. I hope you can forgive me someday._ **

I try my best to look like I’m paying attention to the meeting while all my thoughts are turned towards Camael. I wish I could tell him that I forgave him a long time ago, that he's already being punished enough for my resentment to be added to that.

But I can't do anything but listen, since I don't have the right to talk to him.

"Soon. Within a few weeks or months, if my calculations are correct," Balthazar chimes in.

"Oh, right." Zedekiel huffs. "Balthazar knows all the confidential bits and never tells us a single thing."

"Why would I? Confidential bits are meant to be confidential, you know."

_ **But that's not all…** _

"Good. The issue is closed. I have an announcement to make that directly concerns your functions in the Mission."

_ **If this is my last chance to be understood, I don't want to let it pass.** _

_ **You've seen Cain's memories...** _

** _ **There is something I want you to know.** _ **

"From now on, you will only be watching the West. You will no longer write reports on the East, and will avoid as much as possible going to these areas, unless instructed otherwise. I will provide you with a map of the detailed areas to avoid. In the East, only the former sector of Siosp will remain in your jurisdiction until further notice."

"What? But why?" Ephra says, stunned.

_ **I would do it again without hesitation if I had to. I don't regret any of my actions.** _

** _Do you know why?_ **

I lower my eyes and wait for Camael to answer his own question. I'm listening to two conversations at once, I feel a bit overwhelmed.

"Because the East will be entrusted to the pagan gods."

"To the _what?_"

"The pagan gods. Don't ask me what it is, all I know is in the note I've been sent earlier. I'll transfer it to you right now."

She raises her fingers to her temple. And the next second, a flood of information pours into my head, containing names and stories of many gods, and...

There is a loud gasp. Zedekiel's feathers are all puffed out as if he had been struck by lightning.

"These… _gods…_ fit the description I sent to the hierarchy in my report on human beliefs and superstitions around the world, but… I am positive, they don't exist except in their fertile imagination!"

_ **I believe you might be able to understand me.** _

_ **I disobeyed and betrayed everything I knew to save Cain, because...** _

Balthazar's eyes sparkle mischievously.

"Well, it looks like they're real now, Zeddy…"

_… **devotion has no chains.**_

"The meeting is over," Anna raises her voice to avoid any questions that may come up. "Dismissed!"

** _Farewell, Castiel._ **

My siblings fly away, protesting in a few shared whispers about how the Garrison is being disrespected and information withheld.

They’re all gone now, leaving me alone to stare at the empty room. The child's voice echoes are fading away, and not even the thousands of distant celestial voices can fill the void within me.

* * *

The sun is pouring down blazing light onto the Earth. Under the cloudless sky, sun rays relentlessly hit the walls of Jerusalem and drive Humans to cover their skulls with white cloth.

The majestic Temple of Herod towers in the centre of the city. Its ochre stone structure and marble columns reflect the sun's gleam so brightly that Humans have to shield their eyes to not be blinded by it. I can't help but take pride in this treasure of art and architecture built to the glory of my Father. Humans have grown so much since the day they crawled out of the ocean...

Mary and Joseph are climbing the steps to the Temple, their faces pale with worry. They walk among the columns and stop, breathless, at the sight of Jesus, whom they had lost sight of for the last three days. I spent these three days watching them search everywhere for the child in agony and tears.

Jesus is twelve now – he lost his memories of his true identity years ago, and we have been allowed to watch him and guide him on his quest through dreams that are imposed down to the last detail by the hierarchy. Years have passed, but looking at Jesus still makes me a bit uneasy. For one, I am now the only one who knows exactly what happened between Cain and Camael, since both are walking the Earth deprived of their memories. Moreover, looking at Jesus is hard because he appears to be completely human, but no soul shines in him.

I can see Camael in his calm and quiet attitude, in his gentle voice and confident manners. Like an echo of my brother in arms.

In the shade of a column, the young boy, sitting cross-legged, is in deep conversation with about ten priests surrounding him and drinking in his words. Like all the natives of these sun-drenched lands, Jesus has dark, velvety skin, thick curls of black hair, and warm, lively brown eyes. He stops when Mary and Joseph walk up to him and scold him for having disappeared. He doesn't seem to be surprised or sheepish as a human child would have been, instead he reacts like the Angel that he actually is. Calm and emotionless.

A sudden rush of whispers into my head distracts me from his reply. I press my fingers to my temple and squint, trying to listen to them all. Like the tide, they keep growing and growing with every second, until it becomes nearly deafening.

From what I hear, it looks like the hierarchy finally confirmed that Camael's Grace has been destroyed – there have been rumors about this for almost a decade which have caused a lot of unrest among soldiers. The voices are getting louder still. Some of them sound neutral and indifferent, but they're drown out by thousands of outraged whispers laced with disbelief and anger…

Down at my feet, Jesus is rising to his feet and following his parents out of the Temple just when the whispers shift into loud cries of protest.

Then suddenly, the silence.

Silence, followed by dispassionate voices of Generals of divisions listing the names and ranks of their insubordinate soldiers who have been sent to rehabilitation.

I don’t hear Anna’s voice among them, nor any names of Garrison’s soldiers. The information was not new to us, which prevented us from reacting as strongly as the rest of our brothers. We had time to come to terms with the idea that our brother will live and die as a human being. To get into our heads that nothing can change this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, april 19th)
> 
> _"This has nothing to do with phrasing. The real problem is how the teachings will be misinterpreted by listeners."_
> 
> _"If God has decided to bring this message to Humans, it is because He knows that they are ready to hear and understand it."_
> 
> _"While it may be understood by those listening to it now, it will only take two or three generations for the message to be distorted or lost. That's the way Humans are."_


	21. The mount of olives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Three new soldiers (Pmox, Baradiel, Rzionr Nrzfm) joined the Garrison. Camael is reborn as Jesus to bring Faith to the Humans. When the news spreads that his Grace has been destroyed and that he will die as a Human, many Angels rebel and are sent to rehabilitation.

Bathed in sunlight, Galilee is filled with fragrances of spices and honey. The slow swish of waves on the shore is drowned out by the continuous humming of human voices that rises from the city.

This area is part of what used to be Siosp's sector, not that far from Sodom and Gomorrah that we burned to the ground a few centuries earlier, and where my brother was executed before my eyes.

I can still hear the shrilling echoes of his agony, the screams of monsters and Humans alike as they burned to ashes under Uriel's deathly blasts. That life can return to normal so soon after slaughters and tragedies will never cease to amaze me. Human lives are short and their collective memory of events gets twisted and lost through generations. Or it might have something to do with the adaptability they have displayed throughout their evolution.

I watch the lively crowd wandering through the streets like water flowing between rocks. Every single person carries in their soul a story filled with memories and emotions, unique in their diversity, unpredictable and hard to decipher. I could be watching Humans for all eternity without getting tired of it.

Clothed from head to toe to shield themselves from the blazing sun, they make their way through the colorful stalls of merchants and carts loaded with food or bundles of straw. Jesus is walking among them, stepping on the dust, followed by about thirty devout disciples. A white cloth on his head partially covers his dark, wavy hair, a few locks of which slip out, streaming down on his tunic. He is a grown man now, with a beard darkening his sun-golden face. His warm brown eyes are kind to everyone he encounters, even those who bump into him. He sometimes raises his hand and touches their foreheads with two fingers, relieving them of their physical suffering with just a few soothing words.

All around me, there are feathers rustling, but I keep my head down to observe as Jesus walks through the city alleys. For years now, there has been a growing curiosity about Jesus among my brothers from other divisions, as no Angel in Heaven is unaware of Camael's unique predicament. It has become quite common for our observation mission to be hindered by curious Angels willing to see with their own eyes the rebellious Angel whose Grace has been ripped off and now lives among the Humans as one of them to carry out a mission of the utmost importance. All the while without even knowing he is an Angel.

Well, it’s no wonder that my brothers are so curious about him.

Jesus comes to a halt in front of a blind beggar. His disciples stand behind him, whispering to each other in awe and excitement – the miracles Jesus performs never cease to amaze them. He has a brief conversation with the man, then bends over to touch his forehead. Immediately, the mist clears from the eyes along with the blindness, unveiling perfectly functional pupils and irises, already brimming with tears of gratitude. Now cured, the man throws himself at the feet of Jesus and weeps as he thanks him.

When Jesus smiles down at him, the serene joy lighting up his face is so much like _Camael_ it hurts to watch.

"Who'd have thought this new life would give our Cam-o a taste for showing off?"

While down on the ground the Humans are marveling at the miracle – some even implore Jesus to make them his disciples, promising to give up their lives, wealth and families at once – I look up at Balthazar whose tourmaline eyes are sparkling with mirth.

Balthazar has not been around much these last decades, as he was frequently summoned by the hierarchy, or absent for other reasons unknown to me.

"I can’t believe he doesn’t even use his powers and his pretty face to have a tumble in the hay!" he goes on as I stare unblinkingly at him. "Even incarnated as Humans, you lot from the Garrison have a stick shoved so far up your ass that not even God Himself could pull it out."

I don't take notice of the insult, I just draw my attention back to Jesus who is being assaulted by greedy hands and supplications of sick people.

"How come he still has powers, Balthazar? I would have assumed that an Angel would be powerless without his Grace. But I can see him healing Humans with a mere touch, making fish appear in the sea effortlessly…"

"Ah, Cassy Cassy Cassy. You’re so young and naive. You really don’t know a thing about Grace, do you?"

"I’m not naive," I snap back defensively. "Just tell me why Camael has these powers even though he no longer has his Grace."

"Well then. See, the Grace is our source of energy and what binds us directly to Heaven through a living network system, but more importantly, it is what shapes our appearance and shelters our holy spirit. In theory, the holy spirit fails to survive if the Grace has been destroyed, because unlike a human soul, it cannot exist on its own. In Camael's case, a ritual was used to split the Grace from the holy spirit and to ensure that he would survive long enough to be implanted inside a Human's womb."

"Inside a Human’s womb… is it like taking a vessel, in a way?"

"Not quite. It's more complicated. The womb was not impregnated when Camael entered it – I ensured that Mary was not a slut and was very chaste with her fiancé – and it was his holy spirit who created life there. Let's just say that poor Mary suffered the cons without the pros and that Joseph never got to consummate the marriage."

Around us, a dozen Angels arrive all at once and quietly start whispering to each other, pointing at Jesus. A few seconds later, they have already left, replaced by a new batch of curious Angels.

"What makes the holy spirit so special," Balthazar continues dramatically, "is that it is far more complete than the human spirit. See, Humans are also made of two elements: a spirit and a soul. But their spirit only holds their memories and their survival instincts. A soulless Human would be nothing more than an intelligent animal, basically, focused on their own survival, reproduction, and the protection of their species if they are endangered. Devoid of emotion, sensitivity and creativity. While our holy spirit contains _everything_ we are. Our personality, our memories, and an echo of our Grace."

"An echo?"

"Absolutely. There is a unique bond between each holy spirit and its Grace, which is why Graces are not interchangeable. We’ve only got the one, you and I couldn't exchange Graces or give our own to Camael. And this connection between holy spirit and Grace influences them both. Grace is born out of Life, out of the Lord's creative energy, and the slightest brush with it is life-giving and pure creation. Even stripped of its Grace, Camael's holy spirit carries a small portion of it, just enough to create life in an empty womb or to achieve all those lovely little miracles. Millions of years of merging energies cannot be erased from his holy spirit after only a few decades. This is what we call an echo."

I nod as I let the information sink in. Balthazar raises his fingers to his temple and unfurls his wings, looking annoyed.

"Clearly, they're helpless without me up there! Keep an eye on our local celebrity, I've got a surprise meeting coming up…"

He winks at me and flies away, leaving me behind with all those other Angels I don't know who keep coming and going. I do hope that in a few years time they'll get bored. My brother is not an experiment to be studied.

Meanwhile, Jesus resumed his walk through the bright and dusty streets of the city, followed by newly converted disciples. He patiently answers their questions and shares his wise teachings, speaking of the Lord with so much devotion that through his words I feel my own faith growing stronger. Camael always knew the right words to praise God and galvanize our devotion.

"You’re Castiel, right?"

I look up to see an Angel staring at me with warm, onyx eyes.

"My name is Inias. You may not remember, but we crossed paths after the Flood, and I was also there to support you and Camael at your trial…"

My memories of my trial are foggy and I hardly remember who was there – other than the Garrison, Samandriel, Balthazar and the Sisters of Destiny – but I do remember the Flood.

"I remember you," I say. "You were flying in the sky with your division."

"The division of air, wind and storms, yes. Like most Angels, I have heard a lot about you since the Garrison and the Humans were created, and... I just wanted to tell you... that although we remain silent, there are many of us who support you. We think that Humans are our Father's masterpiece and that your mission is essential."

His Grace glows inside his chest in a slow whirlwind of light.

"… Thank you."

He looks down to watch Jesus, his wings tensing behind his back.

"However, Camael's fate is causing more and more dissension among our brothers, and I am myself divided on the matter. I have Faith in God's plan and I do hope the Humans will understand His message, but... How do you deal with this situation, all of you Garrison soldiers who were close to Camael?"

What kind of question is this? Is he trying to find fault with me somehow?

But all I can find in his eyes is sympathy and genuine curiosity, and I have to look away. Jesus is healing a woman whose arm was paralyzed.

"Each of us reacted in a different way to these events, Inias." I hope my voice doesn’t convey any of my confusion. "Our General showed great efficiency and obedience to the hierarchy. Most of my brothers took the announcement quite… badly, but eventually accepted it. Uriel took it the hardest. He… the incidents the Garrison has suffered over the last few millennia have changed him. Siosp’s death, and now Camael's punishment, it all made him lose the carefree side of him…"

Why am I telling him this? My thoughts are slipping away and coming to life against my will, like I've held them inside for too long.

I shouldn't share my thoughts. With anyone. Especially these days.

It's not safe.

"What about you, Castiel?"

"Me?"

He blinks, tilting his head to the side.

"You and Camael were close…"

My hands roll into fists.

"Camael and I had… history," I say with caution. "It's complicated."

Finally, Inias seems to understand that I don't want to talk about it.

"Just know that no matter what happens, Castiel, I will be on your side. And I won't be the only one."

And then he flies away in the blink of an eye, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the teachings Jesus is giving to his growing number of fascinated disciples.

Either by his wisdom or by his powers, I cannot say.

* * *

The hillside is crowded with Humans standing or sitting cross-legged, all in an arc shape to get the best possible view of Jesus' oratory performance. There are well over a thousand of them, all silent and focused, listening to the words of peace, love and tolerance that my fallen brother is sending them. At his feet are seated the twelve apostles that he chose among his favorite disciples to learn his teaching so that they, in turn, could spread it in the future. Everyone is listening to him fervently, paying rapt attention to every word he says.

A warm breeze makes the shrub leaves simmer and the spectators' tunics ripple. The sea of Galilee glistens in the sunlight, waves nibbling at the shore. Lizards slither furtively over warm rocks as crickets sing their song.

Jesus looks at ease in his role as a spiritual guide. So majestic is his presence, so ancient are his eyes, so deep are his words, that sometimes I struggle to recall that Camael is unaware that he is an Angel, and that he no longer has any memory of the millions of years he spent in the Garrison, nor does he remember any of the battles we fought and the missions we achieved. Nor does he remember Cain.

As I listen to him mesmerize his audience, I understand now why the hierarchy deemed it necessary for Camael to be born among human beings and live as one of them. No Angel would have been able to find the words to affect Humans like this and make them love God: for us, devotion cannot be learned. It is innate, an inherent part of our very essence.

Had we needed to talk directly to the Humans, we would have just ordered them to believe in the Lord and obey His Will – with no proof of His existence whatsoever. For that is what _we_ have been doing our entire lives. Whereas Jesus uses simple words, short, vivid sentences that mark the minds of Humans, giving them concrete examples of their daily lives and their concerns as mortals. He finds the way to their hearts.

None other than the Angel of Joy could have achieved such a feat. Rebellion aside, he has always favored kindness over strength.

"I have not been watching the Humans as closely or for as long as you have, but from what I have observed of them since their creation, I already know that Jesus' message won't be understood."

That was Baradiel talking. With folded arms and fire burning in his red eyes, he stares down unenthusiastically at our fallen brother.

In the last two months, we have received new directives from the hierarchy concerning our mission to keep watch over Jesus. Now, three or more of us must be observing him at all times, with shifts every two or three days, depending on the schedule. Today, it is with Baradiel and Zedekiel that I am watching Jesus' every move.

"Too many analogies, perhaps?" says Zedekiel, tilting his head to the side. "These stories about birds and wild lilies are a tad too cryptic. And how could he promise the pure of heart that they'll see God! Everyone knows that only Archangels have the privilege of laying their eyes on Father and talking to Him."

"Jesus doesn’t know that," I say in a neutral tone. "All he knows about Heaven is what the hierarchy has instructed us to pass on to him through dreams."

"This has nothing to do with phrasing." Baradiel turns his gaze to me. "The real problem is how the teachings will be misinterpreted by listeners."

Zedekiel blinks at him in bewilderment, but quickly averts his gaze when Baradiel glances at him. Even after all these years, Zedekiel still has trouble looking into these blazing eyes glowing like molten lava.

"If God has decided to bring this message to Humans, it is because He knows that they are ready to hear and understand it," I say.

For to make an Angel – even a rebellious one – go through such an ordeal, certainly Father knows what He is doing. I have Faith in His plan. The plan is right.

"While it may be understood by those listening to it now, it will only take two or three generations for the message to be distorted or lost. That's the way Humans are."

Baradiel speaks these words as an observation, without any anger or contempt.

"It's a shame that Humans live for such a short period of time," Zedekiel muses. "If they lived for a thousand years or so, they'd probably be less ignorant. Camael, provided that he remains in good health, should die of old age after... a century, hopefully?"

"Some of God's chosen ones have lived for much longer," I say quietly. "I only hope he lives a long and happy life and succeeds in his mission."

"I pray to God every day that he may find in his mortal life the forgiveness and peace that he could not get in our midst."

He shuts his ice-blue eyes and clasps his four hands together. His Grace brightens as his prayer rises to the sky. I fervently join him in his prayer.

Baradiel, on the other hand, has grown silent.

* * *

Anna effortlessly moves through the swarming crowd. If it weren't for her stiff gait and unblinking eyes, it would be impossible for a Human to suspect that this dark-skinned old woman contains in her flesh and bones an ancient and powerful celestial being – the General of the Garrison, no less.

To us watching the operation from above, Anna clearly stands out among the many Humans strolling through the narrow streets of Jerusalem. Her true face appears translucent, like a bright shadow layered over her vessel's organic one, and her phantom wings are extending from her back, people unknowingly walking right through them.

** _"He's standing only a few feet away from you. Come closer, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him you need his help. Make up some kind of sob story. These Jesus-loving good Samaritans are always eager to rescue widows and orphans."_ **

Zachariah is as close as he can get: Anna is quite walking right between his feet. All of us soldiers of the Garrison are standing in a wider circle around Jerusalem. Well, only a few soldiers from the Garrison are actually here: Hester, Balthazar, Ephra, Miz and I.

Anna thought it best not to involve the other soldiers of the Garrison, for safety's sake. She feared they might overreact or even rebel at the news.

Balthazar is the only one who doesn't seem surprised by what we were told. After all, he's been in the loop for at least a century. He probably knew all about it even before Jesus was born.

Zachariah shakes his head mockingly.

_ **"Oh, ** _ _ **for our Lord’s sake** _ _ **, Anna, don't look so glum. You'll scare the poor thing off.** _ ** _ **Show me emotion, tearful eyes, some actual acting skills, that’s what I want to see** _ ** **!"**

The old woman's body freezes and she throws an irritated glance to the sky - to us - before quickening her pace and laying her hand on the shoulder of the apostle closest to Jesus: Judas Iscariot.

Anna is obviously trying hard to appear slightly more human, but her poor imitation of distress is a blatant failure. Her stance remains rigid and her voice is flat, which is not very convincing. It's quite awkward to watch, actually.

**"That was utterly pathetic**," Zachariah drawls. _**"But it doesn't matter, the fool is following you, which is what we aimed for. Now, take him to the empty alley like we agreed.**_**_**"**_**

Zachariah's three dark blue, icy orbs follow Anna and Judas with sharp yet detached attention.

I've been hearing about Zachariah for ages, but this is the first time I get to see him in person. Back when I was watching the Humans still covered in fur and barely learning to stand on two legs - I stand by the fact that they were trying to imitate us, as we were not yet hiding from their eyes - Zachariah's attempted rebellion and rehabilitation had had a tremendous resonance. He is, to my knowledge, the very first Angel to have contested an order. And the first one to have been sent to rehabilitation.

I can't help but wonder if he regrets rebelling, and if he misses his dinosaurs - just like I do sometimes miss the other race of Humans that was so promising...

There is a certain aura of patronizing self-assurance about him. His posture is stiff, but his Grace fluid. Looking at him, it's hard to imagine doubt ever clouded his judgment.

To have the head of all divisions in charge of Father's living creations come down to supervise fieldwork means that this action is essential and that the hierarchy wants to ensure complete success.

Anna wandered into an alley with Judas. He turns to face her, compassion in his eyes shifting into puzzlement. The General's borrowed face is neutral as she stares at her target. The body she's inhabiting may be worn out by the passage of time, but it radiates raw power, even more so than in her true form. Perhaps her Grace, concentrated in such a small volume, is thus increasing in intensity.

I think it has to be uncomfortable, to be squeezed into such a tiny organic structure. I've never once asked the question - not to Balthazar, nor to my siblings who have occasionally claimed vessels over the past thousand years.

**_"Now, let's give him an eyeful,"_** **urges Zachariah in a falsely cheerful tone. ****_"Start with a bit of wind to shake the tiles and sweep up some dust."_**

Anna does just that - their clothes are now billowing in the gusts and flapping against their bodies. Judas flinches, terrified as he tries to shield his eyes from the dust with his arms. Anna raises her powerful voice to introduce herself as an Angel of the Lord.

** _"The wings,"_ ** ** Balthazar chides in.  ** ** _"I keep telling you, don't forget the wings. They look quite impressive to Humans and they're all you need to blow their minds."_ **

**_"Good point, Balthazar,"_** Zachariah nods. _**"Anna, you heard him, show off your lovely feathers with a flash of lightning so he can have a good look **__**at them**__**.**_**_**"**_**

Anna takes a deep breath as she spreads her ethereal wings. Thick, heavy clouds suddenly gather in the rosy sky on this spring evening. The rumbling of thunder crashes, and lightning strikes through the air not far from us. Light flashes onto Anna's vessel and casts the shadow of her wings on the wall of the alley. Judas drops to his knees, shaking all over and bowing until his forehead touches the ground.

** _"Now repeat after me: Arise, Judas, and rejoice, for God has chosen you to do His will."_ **

Anna dutifully repeats Zachariah’s words.

_ **"You are the closest and most devoted apostle of Jesus, Son of God. And you will be the one who betrays him and delivers him to his death. In a week's time you will lead the high priests and Pharisees to Jesus so that they can take him to Roman justice.** _ ** _ **"** _ **

The growing fame of Jesus has stirred up many grudges and envy in the hearts of men, and there are many who want him dead. But until now his enemies have never been in a position to harm him: either because they did not know where he was or what he looked like, or because they did not dare to attack him in public before his hundreds of faithful disciples.

Judas scrambles up to his feet and staggers back

"Betray him and deliver him to his... ? I would never do that. I love Jesus and I will never betray him."

He is staring at Anna in disbelief, and even from up here I can see his jugular throbbing at an accelerated pace.

** _"You will do it," _ ** ** says Zachariah, and Anna immediately repeats the words,  ** ** _"because God commands it. If you truly love Jesus and his Father, you will not fear being regarded as a traitor, for you will know that you have done good. Jesus will be sentenced to death, ascend to Heaven, and his sacrifice will save all humanity."_ **

Judas shakes his head, eyes wide open and filled with dread.

"Being considered a traitor is not what bothers me, O Angel, but I cannot betray Jesus. He is my dearest friend."

"And there it is, sentimentality and disgusting feelings..." Zachariah snickers. "_**Anna, tell him: this is not a betrayal, but a sacred mission. Jesus already knows that you are destined to betray him. His sacrifice is necessary to save humanity from its sins.**_ Ah ah! Sounds rather good, doesn't it?" He lets out a laugh. "This will look very good in my report to the hierarchy. They enjoy anything that's cryptic. It is, after all, Father's trademark."

I silently avert my eyes.

When Anna and Zachariah summoned us without inviting the rest of the Garrison today, they revealed to us the imminent and cruel death that awaits Camael. We must keep it secret until the fateful moment, because the hierarchy - no, God - fears that Uriel, Rachel or any other Angel may rebel and cause the mission to fail before it is completed.

That Anna and the Lord count me as one of the most reliable and loyal soldiers would have filled me with pride under normal circumstances. But I feel nothing. I'm still having trouble realizing that the last hope I had for my brother has crumbled like all the others. He will not return to the Garrison, will not regain his memories, and will suffer a painful death.

And he knows it.

They told us Zachariah informed him of his death and Judas' betrayal years ago. Without even knowing that he was being sacrificed by his own kind, Jesus humbly accepted it. No questions or hesitation, obeying like only an Angel knows how to. I wish I could spare my brother the agony that awaits him. Camael is a soldier of the Garrison. An Angel of the Lord. Since he is doomed to be a mortal, the least we could do is to offer him a quick and painless death.

I'm starting to understand what compelled him to save Cain from Heaven's control. If only there was a way to do the same with him…

At our feet, Judas bursts into tears as he promises Anna he will obey. Then he walks away with tears streaming down his face.

_ **"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it? That's good, very good, for your advancement to a higher step in the ranks. I'll have a word at the next annual meeting. Another four small steps and you'll get promoted.** _ ** _ **"** _ **

Zachariah stares us down with an air of satisfaction as he spreads his wings.

"Soldiers, it's been a pleasure."

A silky rustle of feathers, and Zachariah vanishes into the stormy sky which is still thundering with lightning, soon followed by pouring rain. The General stands perfectly still, her white hair streaming down her wrinkled face. She clenches her fists and stares at the ground silently.

* * *

A night breeze is blowing through the trees of the Mount of Olives, making their leaves quiver in the moonlight. All is quiet except for the whispered prayer of Jesus and the breathing of his disciples sleeping on the grass. He is praying to God fervently, eager to obey Him and to do His will.

From our position, we follow the march of men armed with spears holding burning torches, which form a long snake of fire slithering in the darkness. Judas is leading them to the garden of Gethsemane where Jesus and his apostles are gathered, and he tells them in a low voice that they will have to arrest the one he will be embracing, for he will be the one they are looking for.

As they approach, the trees grow shadows that twist like entrails in the torchlight. Jesus rises to his feet, lowering a serene gaze on Judas. On the ground, his disciples are waking up and scrambling to stand up as well, except for one who keeps snoring until he gets roughly shaken out of his slumber.

Judas' face is blank as he steps forward, although his eyes glisten with barely restrained tears. His hands rest on Jesus' shoulders as he leans in, bringing their lips together for a short moment – which is enough time for the men to grasp their weapons and rush to their target.

Judas hurriedly moves aside while the apostles are yelling and fiercely fighting to protect their master. Blood gushes out when the ear of one of the guards is sliced off, splashing the grass with red.

"Put your sword back in its sheath," Jesus orders the apostle who did this. His voice is calm but commanding.

The apostles stops fighting and watch in desperation as my brother brushes the forehead of the wounded man with two fingers, healing him instantly.

"If I need protection, my Father will provide it," he says, holding out his hands to be bound.

Terrified, the apostles are running away, chased by armed soldiers who seize and tie up anyone who stands in their way, even bystanders who were drawn by curiosity to the noise and light. When one of them, only clad in a long white sheet, tries to run off, the guards only manage to grab a handful of the cloth while the man escapes naked in the night, penis and testicles bouncing around between his thighs.

The General flies away without a word when she sees that the mission is fulfilled, obviously in a hurry to leave the area. Balthazar follows her soon after, mumbling something about a boring meeting he has to attend. The soft rustle of their wings echoes for a few seconds while the soldiers ruthlessly drag Jesus away. Judas watches it all as he is the only apostle left standing there.

"Uriel will find out the truth sooner or later... We can't keep it from him forever."

Ephra's voice draws me out of my musing.

"All we need is for him to learn this after Jesus died, so he won't be tempted to sabotage the mission." I hope my tone of voice sounds indifferent.

"I can't wait for this to be over," Hester says wearily. "Keeping the secret and explaining why I'm needed there is getting harder and harder. In my original division, Angels are of an inquisitive disposition, and my silence only fuels their interest in my whereabouts."

Ephra hums thoughtfully.

"I can understand why Uriel has been kept out of the mission - he was violently opposed to it from the start - and for the three newcomers, I also understand why Anna does not trust them since they have only been with us for a few centuries, but... the others? Why exclude Levanael, Rachel, Htmorda or Zedekiel? Aren't they as loyal and devoted as we are? Why _us?_"

Miz, who I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he has spoken (not counting, of course, his frequent invitations to witness the foolishness of Humans), raises his voice to reply: "Because of all the Garrison soldiers, we are the only ones who will always blindly obey even the most absurd and cruel orders, whether out of devotion, disregard or fear."

We share a tense look as we let this sink in - to which of us do these words apply? In the past, I would have thought without question that devotion is the only thing that drives me. But since Siosp's death my devotion has grown so well infused with fear that I can no longer tell them apart.

Jesus is silent too as he walks escorted by guards, torchlight drawing shifting shadows on his face.

Left alone in the garden, Judas breaks down in tears in the shade of the olive trees. Thirty silver coins fall from his hand, spilling on the ground with an ominous tinkling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, april 26th)
> 
> _"Anna... What's going on?"_
> 
> _"There's a mass rebellion in Heaven. Quite a mess up there."_
> 
> **[NdA : In the Bible, Judas, overcome with remorse, returns the money and hangs himself to a tree. That's what gave me the idea that he was coerced.]**


	22. The way of the cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Camael is reborn as Jesus to bring Faith to Humans. When the news spreads that his Grace has been destroyed and that he will die as a Human, many Angels rebel and are sent out to rehabilitation. Jesus grew up forgetting what his true nature was, and gathered followers with miracles and preaching. The Garrison, under the order of Zachariah, coerces Judas to betray him to his enemies.
> 
> **WARNING!** this chapter contains a few passages that are a bit painful to read, even though I was careful to keep the details to a minimum.

There are whispers running through the human crowd. Dawn is bathing in golden light the sea of heads turned towards the empty podium.

Balthazar, Miz, Hester, Ephra and Anna have possessed vessels and snuck into the crowd. I am the only one to preserve my true appearance - first, because the moment is too decisive for the hierarchy to waste time forming me to possession, and second, because I am needed to shift or alter memories from above.

The success of this mission relies primarily on me. I would have felt honored if the purpose was not to ensure that my brother's death sentence will be carried out.

Leaning over, I watch my brethren – and my sister – positioning themselves in strategic places to exert their influence on the crowd. For Humans are prone to be blindly driven by peer pressure. It is customary in this region, at Passover, for the governor to release a convicted man selected by the crowd: our mission is to do all that we can to prevent the liberation of Jesus.

As my translucent hand is hovering over the Humans, I can't help thinking that the tactics I'm required to use are incompatible with the very idea of free will that God once celebrated when Adam and Eve were children. Perhaps Baradiel was right, and free will was only a fleeting trend. Has God already grown tired of it?

My Grace is beading at my fingertips as liquid light grazes the souls, probing them one by one. I avoid Humans who do not know my brother, and focus instead on his followers or allies. A simple twist to their memories is enough to dull, warp, or invert them. It’s so easy.

Free will is merely an illusion. A beautiful idea wielded or bypassed by hierarchy depending on their interests. Humans are, like us, subject to the Lord's will and to the schemes He makes the Sisters of Destiny execute. The sole difference is that they are blissfully unaware of it.

Jesus should have added to his preaching _Blessed are the simple-minded, for they will believe they are free_.

The crowd cheers as the governor, Pontius Pilate, draped in his white robe, steps onto the podium. Behind him, guards are holding two men stripped to a loincloth. One of them is my brother, whom I recognize because no soul shines in him. His head is lowered, and his gaze seems distant, too blank to be human. The skin around his bound wrists is chafed and bruised, and there are purple marks of beating on his body and face.

I have to hold back a rush of anger knowing that Humans dared to lay a hand on my brother. Do they even know who they're dealing with? Even stripped of his Grace, Camael is an Angel, a Warrior of God - these mortals should be kneeling before him with fear and respect. We could destroy this city with just one strike!

But orders are orders, and it is for my loyalty and devotion that I have been chosen to carry out the mission. Anger is pointless, and Camael will endure much more suffering before he dies. I am a good son, I will not fail my Father.

Pontius Pilate raises his arms to bring silence.

"Since it is customary here that I release someone at Passover, I am giving you the choice between two men. Jesus Christ, also called the Messiah, Son of God, or King of the Jews, has been brought to me and I find no charge against him. Or Jesus Barrabas, a well-known thief who killed a man in a riot. Who do you want me to release?"

"Barrabas!"

That was Ephra shouting out loud, contained inside a female vessel.

Taken aback, Pontius Pilate lowers his arms as he stares down at the ocean of heads. Immediately, Anna, Balthazar and Miz also start shouting the name of the thief.

"Barrabas!"

"Set Barrabas free!"

"Barrabas!"

Some Humans join their voices to those of my brothers and sisters, as I reduce to silence two disciples of Jesus who, even though I have altered their memories, are still trying to yell out the name of their master. In an effort not to think about what I am doing, I run my fingers from Human to Human to distort or temporarily cloud the memories of Jesus' miracles and wisdom. Soon the entire crowd is shouting the name of Barrabas together.

Pontius Pilate makes a sign with his hand, and silence falls again.

"Very well. I will release Barabbas. What should I do with Jesus Christ?"

"Let him be crucified! Death to him!" the soldiers of the Garrison are yelling. They are soon being mimicked by the Humans and I don't even have to prod them into it.

Once again, Humanity as a species is showing thirst for blood in a group situation. I'm not surprised.

Pontius Pilate frowns, looking positively stunned now.

"I could find nothing in this man that deserves this sentence. I merely intended to inflict some punishment then release him…"

"Nail him to the cross!" roars the maddened crowd.

A hint of fear flashes through the governor's eyes as he sees the vociferous masses clamoring for my brother's blood with increasing fury.

"Why? What harm has this man done?"

The shouting is only growing louder, bordering on rioting, and Pontius Pilate finally yields. Barrabas, euphoric, is released into the crowd, while a bowl of water is brought to the governor so that he can wash his hands.

"I'm not responsible for this man's blood, this is of your own doing."

_**Mission accomplished**_, Anna's voice whispers in my head.

Jesus' most devoted disciples are slowly coming out of their trance as their memories are restored to normal. They stand frozen in horror among the heinous crowd shouting for blood and death, especially those who had never heard of Jesus before.

It is easy for Humans to hate what they do not know and to align their actions with what the majority does. Far too easy.

The screaming crowd doesn't even notice when my siblings disappear in the blink of an eye – they fly to perch on my hand. Together, we look down at Camael as the guards place on his head a crown with thorns piercing deep into the skin. There is blood running down his face, making his hair and beard sticky. Our brother barely flinches when he is tied to a column and an executioner starts flogging the bare skin on his back with a whip made of leather straps weighted with lead balls and sharp hooks.

"This is so barbaric," Ephra mumbles.

Jesus shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, and still not a single sound comes out of his mouth. Cheered by the crowd and the laughing guards, the persecutor strikes harder and harder, causing the back's bruised skin to split and break into long, blood-soaked gashes.

"Take your vessels to their homes, quit their bodies and come back here. Castiel and I will stay on position to monitor."

My brethren promptly do as Anna commanded and disappear. Down on the ground, the executioner has stopped his whipping, but now the guards are mocking my brother, dressing him in a scarlet cloak.

"Cas…"

I look away from the painful scene to Anna, who, standing in the palm of my hand, stares up at me with a look on her face I cannot begin to describe. Her vessel is a young girl clothed in a blue dress and a white shawl that partly covers her head.

There is something intense and deeply unsettling about her unblinking gaze, as though she is expecting _something_ from me. I have no idea what that could be.

"How long do you intend to stay inside your vessel, Anna?"

She presses her lips together and averts her eyes in dejection.

"Until this is all sorted out." She turns and stares down at Jesus, her wings tensing up. "I may still need it."

There's a silky rustle of wings announcing Ephra, Miz, Balthazar and Hester's return in their true form.

"Let's get it over with," says the General. "Camael will be dead before nightfall. Now all we can hope for is that there will be no uprising in Heaven."

* * *

"I highly recommended you to the hierarchy as soldiers of unquestionable loyalty. I expect you to be worthy of the trust placed in you, and not to let your personal sympathies interfere with the mission!"

Perched on my shoulder, the General speaks in a commanding tone. Her words are paced with the hammering of nails as they pierce flesh and bones. Screams and waves of suffering are rising up to us.

"The mission is to stop anyone, Humans or Angels alike, from setting Jesus free. His followers will no doubt make an attempt. Our brethren still don't know what he is enduring, but the information could spread like wildfire at any time. A day has already passed since the hierarchy has forbidden the Angels to come down to take a look at him as they used to do, and some of them already have suspicions. Not to mention the fact that half the Garrison is being kept out under false pretense. Should rogue Angels attack you, your role is to fight them off and notify an Archangel who will proceed to neutralize them. Get in position, soldiers!"

Anna never mentioned our Father's name. Not even once.

We move into a circle around the hill, on the lookout. Anna is still standing on my shoulder – her false face is unreadable, and her dress, hair and shawl are fluttering in the wind.

After carrying the cross up the hill with the help of a bystander, Jesus collapsed to the ground. And now the guards are tearing the scarlet cloak off and laying him down on the cross. The rusty, blunt point of the nail – which has undoubtedly been used many times before – presses against one of his wrists and the hammer strikes down, driving it in with one blow and ripping a cry of pain out of our brother. Blood is gushing out and dripping to the ground while the executioner moves to his other wrist and then to his feet, placing them one on top of the other – he has to hammer the nail repeatedly to break the bone structure there, sweating profusely in the midday sun.

** _I can't stand to watch this. I shouldn't _ ** ** _even _ ** ** _be here in the first place. I should be carrying out my mission in my division, watching over animals who only kill to feed themselves, instead of... instead of... Your filthy Humans are seriously degenerate for inflicting such things on their own kind!_ **

I glance over to Hester, whose gray eyes are squinted. His voice was echoing into my head, and into my head only. He was talking to me solely through our wavelength canal, which is usually reserved for missions or exchanging information. Standard procedure requires a supervisor to be notified beforehand to review and approve the message, but Miz has often broken the rule, as has Hester just now.

I hold his gaze before averting my eyes. I have no answer for him. What good would it do to voice my regret and sorrow? What must happen will happen, for it is the will of the Lord. I have Faith in Father, and I cannot allow myself to be angry with Him for what He is doing to my brother. For the Plan is right, I am simply not able to understand it.

I watch as the crosses are raised, the martyrs' toes nearly touching the ground. Jesus, with his knees slightly bent, clenches his teeth and tries to relieve the pain of his body's weight straining his bloody wrists, but can only shift the weight onto his nailed feet. Blinded by the blazing sun, he closes his eyes, trickles of blood streaming down his forehead and along his temples. There is also blood dripping from his wrists, running down his arms. His shivering body is drenched in sweat and he is already struggling to breathe. Over the past thousands of years I have seen how the human mind works to find new, more brutal ways to kill others by prolonging the agony, but this is probably one of the most terrible ones. Assuming he doesn't suffocate to death by sundown, the guards will break his legs with a hammer so he won't be able to put his weight on his wounded feet. I know this, because I've seen this kind of execution before. However, it's much harder to keep a stoic attitude when it's my own brother who's being tortured this way.

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing," Camael whispers while guards and bystanders laugh at him.

"Soldiers!" calls the General. "Armed disciples approaching on the west coast, neutralize them immediately. Be inventive. Dysentery, intestinal rupture, temporary amnesia, migraine, hallucinations, anything, as long as you keep them alive."

I kneel down and reach out to the group of about a hundred men walking up the hill, my hand brushing against Hester and Miz's fingers as we distract them from their purpose. Our mission in Egypt would have been so much easier had we been allowed to convince Pharaoh with the same kind of method...

"Mary is also here, with two women," Ephra says, squinting. "Shall we stop them too?"

"Don't!" Anna says, leaning a hand on my neck. "No... Let them through."

The General watches as the three weeping women walk towards Jesus. I've never seen her look so enthralled.

Then, suddenly, she brings two fingers to her temple and frowns – it's unsettling to see her showing her state of mind through human facial expressions instead of her Grace and her wings. She looks alarmed.

"Go on with the mission without me, I'll be right back."

And just like that, Anna is gone in a flurry of wings.

"What has gotten into her?"

Miz blankly stares down at Jesus' disciples scattering in complete disarray.

"She's off to stop Uriel," he says in a neutral tone.

"From doing what?"

Miz grows quiet and just crosses his arms as he returns to his station. I glance over at Balthazar, whose uncharacteristic silence could almost make me forget he's there. His tourmaline eyes are focused on Camael, and three of his arms are crossed while his head is resting on his fourth hand.

And then, like a wave crashing down on us, hundreds of thousands of voices are rushing into a raging flow in our heads, filling the air with static electricity.

"The sun..." Hester breathes out in stupor, staring up wide-eyed at the sky.

"I didn't sign up for this nonsense," Balthazar mutters, his voice lacking his usual flippancy.

Up above, before our eyes, the sun is vanishing, being reduced to nothing, as though erased from corporeal reality. Darkness is descending upon the Earth like a layer of ink. Now only the brightness of our Graces and countless stars in the vault of heaven are providing light to the surroundings.

This is not an eclipse. The sun really did disappear.

And the General still hasn't returned...

I spread my wings and materialize my blade in my hand, widening my stance into a defensive position.

"Get ready," I say, standing on guard.

We form a close circle with our backs to Jesus on his cross, weapons out. A swarm of radiant silhouettes rises from the skyline, joining us within seconds. Angels. About a hundred of them, maybe more. A dozen or so land on the ground, while the others hover overhead with their wings widely spread.

"Brothers." One of the Angels steps forward. "We came to rescue Camael from the Humans' cruelty. You should join our cause. We are a family, we have to help each other."

I keep my head up, snapping my wings open as menacingly as I can.

"No," I say, tightening my grip on my blade. "Camael has to die today. These are the orders."

No time to waste. I’m already sending a distress call straight to Anna and the Archangels through my Grace.

** _We are being attacked by rogue Angels who want to free Camael. Requesting immediate backup._ **

The Angel tilts his head to the side, looking pained.

"Then the orders are wrong. Just listen and reconsider before you say no. We're about to open a new era. Things are changing. There is a riot raging in Heaven as we speak: There are already almost a hundred thousand of us fighting up above, and this is only the beginning."

I need to keep them distracted with words until an Archangel comes to our defense. Because from a strictly strategic perspective, we stand no chance of defeating a hundred hostile Angels when there are only five of us.

"You're rioting against _God_?" Hester chokes in indignation.

The Angel's eyes narrow into three turquoise slits and he raises one arm to point to Jesus, behind me, who is whimpering with pain as he tries to shift his weight on his nailed feet in order to relieve his mangled wrists and his constricted chest.

"We are rioting against _that,"_ he snarls more aggressively. "Enough stalling. We mean you no harm, so please stay out of our way."

"Unless Father smites you Himself, the Archangels will do it. You won't stand a chance. Repent!"

But the Angels dismiss Ephra's warning. The fierce glow of their Graces shines on their blades as they wield them.

"Let's get Camael out of here!" the turquoise-eyed Angel shouts before he lunges at me.

Our blades collide with a clattering noise and I thrust him back hard, stretching my wings to keep them from reaching their objective. When another Angel attacks me on my left side, I throw him to the ground with a punch in the face. At the same time, a dozen Angels are hurling themselves right at me, coming from all sides. I gather all my strength as I expel a wave of energy that only succeeds in knocking two of them down and pushing the others back. If this go on, I'll drain my Grace's power, I won't be able to…

"Castiel!"

That's Hester's voice, just behind me. I whirl around just in time to caught sight of him tackling to the ground an Angel who was about to stab me in the back. Hester hisses furiously as they roll together and beats him with his fists before brandishing his blade, ready to kill. We are being overpowered, and there is nothing I can do when three Angels grab me and pin me to the ground. All I can see is one of them reaching out to Jesus, when…

A blast of light.

The purest white I've ever seen in my entire existence. A white so bright that it wipes out colors and outlines.

Everything is slowing down and sounds are thickening in the air.

Above us, high in the dark sky where the sun should be, Gabriel is staring down at us, slowly outstretching his hand. His Grace shines so bright it hurts to look at it directly. And then, I can _feel_ the rogue Angels screaming even though there is no sound reaching me, the silence is total, like inside the eye of a storm. Their Grace melts into a glowing, vanishing mist as their wings crumble until there's nothing left of this mutinous faction but ashes blown away.

Without even sparing us a glance, Gabriel lowers his hand and lands on the ground, folding his massive wings as his gaze falls on Camael's body nailed to the cross.

I can hear everything clearly now. The crucified begging for water. The rustle of my brethren's wings. Thousands of voices ringing through my head in a thunderous roar.

"Castiel! Are you unharmed?"

There are hands grabbing my arm and helping me up. I thank Hester with a nod as my blade reintegrates my Grace. We are all alive. That is, only the soldiers of the Garrison are. Gabriel annihilated every last one of the rebels, leaving them no chance to repent.

The fear Archangels have inspired in me since Siosp's execution only grows stronger. The first sons of God truly are the most powerful weapons of Heaven. Compared to them, we are insignificant.

For a brief moment I believed Gabriel was going to smite us along with the rebels.

"Beware," Anna's voice rises. "There could be more to come."

I glance down at the General who has just reappeared on my shoulder, still contained in her human vessel. The sleeves of her blue dress are soaked with blood and her hands are also stained, even though her substitute body doesn't seem to be wounded.

The Angels' voices keep screaming imprecations, calling for rebellion. And suddenly, by hundreds, by thousands, they vanish as if they had never existed.

"Anna... What's going on?" Ephra murmurs.

"There's a mass rebellion in Heaven. Quite a mess up there."

I look back at the hilltop spiked with bloody crosses. Gabriel is still there, silent and still as a mountain, staring at Jesus whose head is now hanging low, a few locks of hair sticky with blood veiling his gaze. Although the sun is missing, the minutes and hours passing by are warm and oppressive. Swarms of flies are buzzing and gathering on the festering wounds to lay their eggs there. Jesus has been nailed to this cross for three hours and now he is struggling to breathe. The tears rolling down his face mingle with his sweat and coagulated, drying blood. His weight has caused the gaps in his wrists and feet to stretch, tearing joints and muscles open. The thick nails are now pressed directly against the bone.

_ **Uriel was about to riot and join the faction that attacked you.** _

That was Anna’s voice ringing into my head, clear as a bell. She's sitting on my shoulder, her legs hanging down in the air. Her dress and shawl are blowing in the wind, and she is leaning forward to watch Camael's agony. Just like Hester did earlier, she's projecting her words directly into my head, privately: clearly, our brethren are unaware.

** _He was going to draw all the other Garrison soldiers with him. They all wanted to save Camael as much as he did: Levanael, Pmox, Rachel..._ **

Sadness flashes across her vessel's eyes as the wind frees a few strands of hair from her shawl that start fluttering before her face.

** _Camael cannot be saved, and I could not allow them to be executed before my eyes over their poor insight._ **

Why is she telling me all this? Why me?

_ **How did you know? ** _ I ask with caution, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. _ ** What happened?** _

I have to repress my concern for Uriel. I've always been closer to him than to my other brothers. Since our creation, he has constantly sought my company, whether to initiate a conversation or just to stand by my side in peaceful silence. While I rarely met the other soldiers of the Garrison, Uriel would visit me at least once a decade. Even though the events of the last few millennia have taken us a bit apart, more than a brother, Uriel is my friend. My oldest friend.

Anna stares down at the sleeves of her dress, and instantly, all the blood is gone and her clothes are clean.

** _I'd ordered Baradiel to keep an eye on him and alert me of any sign of insubordination. I stayed in my vessel to be able to get to him within a second and perform the banishing sigil. Now they are all on the other side of the Earth, helpless, but safe. And it will all be over before they can come back._ **

"My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"

Jesus’ broken voice snaps my attention back to him just in time to see life fading away from his tearful eyes as he looks up to the sky – to us – before his chin falls back to his chest and he stops breathing.

It’s over.

Camael is dead.

That thought sinks like a rock in the ocean. There is a tremor shaking the depths of the Earth and a flash of lightning rips through the dark sky. Could it be a combined effect of our grief?

"Mission accomplished," says Anna in a strained voice.

A guard rams the sharp end of his spear into his side to make sure Jesus is dead. Right at the same time, the last voices of the rebels echoing in our heads vanish, replaced by a heavy silence. Then Michael's calm voice announces that the rebellion has been defeated, and lists the names of the executed rebels. They have all been executed. No one has been sent to rehabilitation.

"Oh fuck this."

Gabriel's voice rises over the sinister enumeration of Angels' names. Shining like a star in the darkness, the Archangel's Grace is swirling like a hurricane and radiating an aura of frustration and anger.

"Gabriel?" Anna inquires as she gets up on my shoulder. "What is the matter?"

The Archangel turns to us, throwing up his arms frantically.

"The matter is that I've had enough! I can't do this anymore!"

His wings snap open aggressively in a flutter of feathers as he darts an angry-ridden amber gaze at us.

"Tell Michael and Raphael they can shove it. I won't play their game anymore. I'm done."

And without further explanation, he flies off like an arrow, disappearing into the dark sky.

"_What_ did just happen?" Ephra mumbles in dismay.

Before he can get an answer, the sun suddenly reappears and floods the Earth with its light again. Still perched on my shoulder, Anna squares her shoulders and raises her voice loud and clear.

"Keep what you have just seen between us until further notice! Now go back to your stations, all except for Castiel. Dismissed!"

She doesn't need to tell Ephra, Miz, Balthazar and Hester twice, they fly off in a hurry to flee this awful place. Anna stays silent for a long time, her eyes riveted on Mary and the two other women who rushed to the bloodied cross, kneeling and crying so hard they're shaking with tears and sobs.

"Camael was our brother and I liked him," she whispers at last hesitantly. "But… I don’t feel _anything_, Cas. Only regret and sadness."

I squint and tilt my head towards her. What does she mean?

Regret and sadness is what I’m feeling as well, which is an appropriate and perfectly rational reaction to the death of a brother and close soldier.

"I don't understand. What more would you want to feel, Anna?"

"I don't know. What _they_ are feeling," she says, motioning at the weeping women with _envy_. "I'm glad Camael died among the Humans. He deserves to be mourned and wept for. And that is something we are unable to do."

"So you wish you could suffer more?"

"No," she murmurs, lowering her head. A gust of wind flaps her dress against her body and a strand of hair gets stuck between her lips. "No… I just wish to feel alive."

* * *

I fold my wings as I set foot in the meeting room, my claws rattling on the floor. Anna is sitting alone at the table in semi-darkness, her hands clasped and her head lowered. I sit at my usual place, waiting for my brothers to arrive. They seem to be late.

"Good. Let’s begin."

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?"

Anna looks, her deep green eyes staring at me in a hard and distant way.

"No. You're the only one summoned. The hierarchy has a mission of the utmost importance for you."

I straighten my back and nod, instantly invested with a high sense of duty. The General stares at me unblinkingly.

"As you know, the success of Camael's mission rests on the Faith of the Humans in his word. It's only been three days since his death, and already doubt is growing in their hearts. They believe his death proves that he was not the Son of God, and…"

Anna pauses, averting her eyes with an irritated look. I try to hide the uneasiness caused at the mention of my deceased brother's name, and focus on the information.

"How can they doubt when they have seen with their own eyes the miracles he has accomplished?"

"That's the way Humans are," she replies in a singularly soft voice. "Their Faith is fragile and craving evidence."

I don’t understand. I don't get why it's so difficult to instill Faith in Humans. How can they live without believing, and how can they have doubts after receiving the word of God through His Son? There is no need for me to understand in order to accomplish a mission. So I keep my questions to myself.

The minds and hearts of Humans will always remain a mystery to me.

"What can be done to fix it?"

Anna's three green orbs are darkening.

"We need to resurrect Jesus. To prove that he is indeed the Son of God."

Now I'm positively confused.

"But... Balthazar said it's impossible to resurrect him. Because he has no soul."

"That is correct. And that's where you step in, Castiel."

"I don’t understand."

"There is no way to bring him back from the dead, it's true. However, you have to make the Humans believe it is possible."

I get up slowly, my wings clenching. I'm starting to see what my role is in this mission.

"By imprinting them with fake memories, right?"

"It is necessary for the mission to be a success, Castiel. This is an order. And orders are orders."

I avert my eyes and stare at the vacant seats of my brethren. Once again, free will will be violated under a direct order coming from the hierarchy. Baradiel was right. Free will isn’t real. It is nothing but a grand idea built on illusions and deceptions. There is no freedom, no choice.

Perhaps it's better that way.

* * *

My Grace is glowing bright at the tip of my finger when I carefully remove it. The woman gasps and dashes away from the tomb, her face beaming. She’s heading to the city to join the disciples and announce to them that Jesus has resurrected.

He has not. It's all my doing, including the body's disappearance, which was merely an empty shell of flesh that was beginning to decompose.

Although the memories I created are fake, her joy is real, as will be the happiness of the disciples when she tells them the news. No Human carries the burden of knowledge as we do. They don't know that everything is already written. They owe their happiness to ignorance.

For a moment, I catch myself envying them.

* * *

_Jesus' feet leave the sand and he rises to the sky with a gentle smile on his face, his clothes rippling silently. The disciples stare up in awe as he glows brighter and brighter and reaches one of the mottled clouds. The Son of God disappears in the shimmering rays of light surrounding him as dawn paints the ocean with soft colors._

_With tears in their eyes as they gaze up at the luminous clouds, the disciples spend a long time standing there, lulled by the rolling sound of the waves on the shore._

"Beautiful!" says Zedekiel enthusiastically.

He is leaning over my hand and touching it to watch the memories that I am creating and inserting into the minds of Jesus' disciples.

"Thank you."

I withdraw my hand and rise to my feet, and so does my brother who looks at me with a brand new respect in his icy blue eyes.

"I've never seen you perform before, Castiel, but now I see why you're viewed as the best when it comes to altering memories. I've had to create a few visions over the last few millennia, but they were bland compared to what you just did."

It takes a lot of effort for me not to beam with pride. Indeed I magnified the landscape in the memory I created for Jesus' false farewell. Everything is basically the same, but I enhanced the colors, the smells, the melody of the wind, all with a sense of longing that only the poetry of the extinct human species could make me experience.

"So this is how our last mission on Earth ends," Zedekiel muses. "I'm glad it's over. These last few millennia have been exhausting."

"I only hope that Camael's death and the thousands of executions will not have been all in vain."

Zedekiel lets out an awkward laugh and stirs his wings.

"Indeed, considering that I almost ended up being one of them..."

I give him a sidelong glance. Zedekiel is the only one who dares to mention this. Everyone else tries not to talk about it, undoubtedly ashamed of having been led into disobedience by Uriel and Virgil. They have all repented of their bad deeds, and I cannot hold the fault against them. Camael was one of us. It was a difficult and unique situation that will never happen again.

"We have nothing left to do here," I say resolutely. "Anna is waiting for our mission report."

We spread our wings and fly up in a silky rustle of feathers. Just before reaching through the layer of clouds, I gaze upon the Earth one last time, seized by harrowing wistfulness.

Now the Humans are on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, may 3rd)
> 
> _"Are we really out there attacking one of our own to protect a demon? What the hell."_


	23. Transfer of power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Castiel is an Angel of the Garrison, a group of soldiers created to watch over humanity, with Anael (who calls herself Anna) at its head. Through battles and tragedies leading to destruction and Apocalypse on Earth, Castiel sees some of his brothers doubt and pay a high price for their rebellion. He himself feels doubts he dares not voice, terrorized by the punishment the Archangels reserve for rebels, and oppressed by his desire to be a good soldier and a good son. With Jesus' death the celestial interventions on Earth ceased, and it will take two millennia for this to change... For nothing stays locked up for ever.

It takes only a few seconds to go from Heaven to Earth and I have taken this pathway many times over the last few thousand years, but never has it seemed so long before. The Garrison appears in a chaotic formation in the late autumn night sky, slashing through the air like a sheet of silk. With our wings pressed tight against our bodies, we dive straight to the Earth, whose oval curve is bathed in moonlight. Straight to our target, a city in the middle of North America.

The ground is coming up at high speed, and we snap our wings open with a muffled rustle to land. Invisible to mortal eyes, we tower over the houses, streets and vegetation. Not the slightest cloud in sight, and yet, looking from here, there are no stars adorning the night sky. Artificial lights and pollution are dimming their splendor.

"It reeks of sulfur" Uriel snarls.

There is indeed no way to ignore the sweet, sickening stench rising up to us.

"Demons." Zedekiel narrows his eyes. "Great. Just what we needed."

"They have been swarming around for decades anyway, and we still haven't been ordered to take action," says Rzionr Nrzfm.

"It doesn't matter," interrupts Rachel. "We're not here for them."

**_"Anna!"_** says Uriel sharply, and his voice rings in all our heads. **_"We know you're here._** _**Surrender yourself to us now or we'll have to do it the hard way!**"_

My blade takes shape and slides into my hand. I grasp it and try to put my hesitations aside.

_"_**_Anna_**_,"_ Htmorda says sternly. **_"The circular 543A stipulates that it is not allowed to descend to Earth except during a mission authorized by the hierarchy, and using a vessel without going through the circuit is punishable by rehabilitation."_**

_**"Did you really think I wouldn't notice a theft from my livestock, darling?"**_ Balthazar chimes in. _**"Now, don't be shy and show yourself****!"**_

A movement catches my eye, and a young Human female appears on the roof of a house in the blink of an eye, her eyes raised towards us. She is barefoot, only dressed in her pajamas. Over her soft oval-shaped face framed by short black hair, Anna's real face is floating, translucent, her fierce eyes staring at us with barely restrained anger.

_ **"Let me guess. Zachariah sent you."** _

She doesn't seem surprised when I nod affirmatively.

It came as a surprise when Zachariah summoned us all without going through our General. We had not seen him since the mission involving Judas Iscariot, and he normally sends his orders to Anna who then enforces them on us. But this time, the situation is different. Because we have to intercept our own General who is accused of insubordination, sabotage of the plans of Destiny and high treason. I don't know in detail what she did - Zachariah gave us no further explanation.

**_"Don't make it harder than it has to be, Anna,"_** I say in the most dispassionate voice I can muster. **_"Our orders are to kill you should you resist."_**

Anna tilts her head to the side, smiling bitterly.

** _"I will be killed anyway. I've been through rehabilitation once before, and it's rare that they give 'defective' elements a second chance. Do you even know why I'm here, Castiel?"_ **

My blade catches a ray of moonlight as I squint.

** _"It doesn't matter why, your presence on Earth defies the will of Heaven."_ **

The night breeze ruffles her curls as she glares at me, ignoring the blade that threatens her.

_ **"** _ ** _Cas... You must have noticed how increasingly absurd the orders are becoming..."_ **

I tighten my grip on my weapon, throwing her an icy look. Why is she specifically talking to me? As though she believes she can draw me into her fall. That's offensive. I'm a loyal soldier and I would never betray my Creator.

When she finally takes her eyes off me, my Grace starts flowing more easily and I can relax my wings. Now she's scrutinizing the other soldiers one by one as she spreads her vaporous wings behind her back.

** _"You have also noticed the abnormal demon activity in recent years. Why do you think our monitoring missions have declined and we haven't been intervening directly for two thousand years? And why is it forbidden to fly to Earth without permission?"_ **

Her voice vehemently echoes in our heads, and I can't think of anything to say. I lower my blade, confused. She's right. Since Camael's death and Gabriel's sudden and unexpected disappearance, our observation mission has been gradually abandoned, it has even become quite unusual for us to go down here. We have been transferred to other services for punctual and simple missions - such as sorting souls or managing human Paradises. I have wondered about this without ever daring to ask, the memory of the large-scale executions still seared in me.

"Zachariah warned us not to listen to her," Zedekiel hisses nervously. "She is trying to make us doubt..."

Anna is still staring at us unblinkingly, a wistful look growing in her eyes.

**_"We've known each other all our lives. I've always cared for you, all of you, I've always made sure that..."_** She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes wearily. **_"Zachariah warned you because he's afraid I'm going to reveal every dirty secret that the hierarchy is hiding from you. And he should be. I'm here to stop Azazel from destroying this human family, which descends from Cain!"_**

She points down at the house whose rooftop she is standing on.

"Azazel...?" I whisper, bewildered.

Azazel. I remember the yellow-eyed and arrogant second-class Cherub. Forsaken and exiled by God Himself to be in charge of Hell.

Is Anna telling the truth? But what would bring Azazel on Earth?

** _"I don't have much time to act. Tonight he will bleed in the infant's mouth and kill the mother, as he has done dozens of times before on this continent. Do you understand now? I want to protect the Humans and smite demons as we should be doing, instead of standing there and watching idly!"_ **

I glance down at the quiet house. All lights are off, except for the occasional colorful flashes coming from the living room. There is a Human sleeping in front of the television. And indeed, there is a demon standing in the infant's room, channeled inside a human body whose soul is engulfed by the liquid darkness flowing in its veins, to the point where I can barely see it glow. His face is lowered over the child. Could it be Azazel?

_ **"I have no time to explain, but I'm trying to do the right thing. For the sake of the millions of years we've spent together, trust me, just this once."** _

**_"I understand your point of view_,"** Levanael says in a soft tone. **_"But you can't just go ahead and kill the King of Hell without permission, that's a major transgression."_**

**_"Especially since, according to Zachariah, your actions are going against Fate..._**_,_**_"_** Baradiel adds.

**_"Enough talking!"_** Uriel snarls. **_"You won't bend any of us to your will. Surrender now and get out of your vessel, or I'll rip you out of there myself, blasting this whole town and its hairless apes along with it if I have to!"_**

Anna frowns, and in a hushed swish of feathers, she reappears behind the house, her wrist slit open as she hastily traces a circle and sigils on the wall and... she opens her eyes wide and looks up. Balthazar is crouching over her, the tip of his finger poking her back.

_**"You won't fool us so easily,"**_ he says in a carefree tone.

And in one flick, he throws Anna away before she can place her hand on the wall to complete the banishing sigil. She can only avoid hitting the ground by flapping her wings to keep her balance.

"She resisted! Let's kill her!" Rzionr Nrzfm roars.

Pmox glances at Miz, eyes wide and begging.

"We still can't possibly kill our own General!"

Miz merely wraps his wing around Pmox's waist, keeping his Grace perfectly still and neutral. I clench my fists while Uriel, Balthazar and Htmorda surround Anna after wiping the blood off the wall.

"Wait a minute, you ruffians!" Balthazar grabs Uriel's arm, stopping him from stabbing Anna with his blade. "Try not to damage the vessel, this is precious equipment that could be of use again! I know the spell to get her out, just leave it to me and get the reception committee ready for her..."

"Are we really out there attacking one of our own to protect a demon?" Zedekiel's left wing twitches. "What the hell."

"Why are you even surprised, Zed?" Levanael says. "We've received absurd orders before."

"It is not our place to discuss orders," I chime in, trying to get them back to reason.

Balthazar has only just begun to recite his spell when screams are heard from the house. It's engulfed in fire, and there is a young boy running out, holding a baby in his arms. Then an explosion smelling of sulfur, and the man who had been sleeping in front of the television rushes out, grabbing the two children to bring them to safety.

In the midst of the fire swallowing up the house, a pure and bright soul is floating among the flames. A Reaper's pale shadow circles it several times, but in vain: the soul seems to refuse to leave.

"Anna is gone!" Zedekiel's voice hisses.

I look up sharply. Anna seized the diversion to flee. She's nowhere to be seen.

"What should we do now?"

Ephra sounds a bit lost. It is typically at times like this that we wait for Anna to tell us what to do. What should we do when there is no one to guide us and command our actions?

Should we call Zachariah and tell him the mission failed?

No. We have to find her. We _cannot_ fail our mission. Orders are orders.

"Let's split up and start searching for her!" I say as I spread my wings.

Without any last glance for the burning house, we all fly away to hunt down our own General.

* * *

I have had the opportunity to visit tens of thousands of human Paradises over the last few centuries. They all depict memories of happiness, laughter, love. Or sometimes they were created out of thin air by their imagination - but that only applies to the few Humans who have never experienced a single moment of true happiness in their lives. I have explored these fragments of life during my missions of soul-selection and my contribution to intense debates on the admission or rejection of particular cases.

But out of all Paradises, however magnificent and shimmering they may be, this one is by far my favorite. Although simple, it radiates a sense of peace and quiet joy that I like very much. The park grass is soft under my feet, a warm breeze makes the kite hover in the blue sky. While the Human is alone in his Paradise, there are still sounds of life filtering in the background. Children laughing, indistinct voices, the clear gurgling of a fountain... Feeling at peace, I let my eyes drop shut, basking in the sun's warmth.

This simple joy tastes like eternity. This autistic man's Paradise is, for me, the most perfect illustration of happiness. It doesn't matter how much suffering and pain Humans go through in their short lives: for the greatest consolation awaits them here. However difficult their problems may be, death clears everything and forgiveness is offered to those who have earned it.

Things are not quite so easy for us Angels of the Lord.

The Garrison no longer has a General, and our only mission now is to find Anna and execute her. But without a leader to direct us, to organize us and to build a strategy, there is no winning. We have no idea what to do or where to start. Without Anna, we are lost. Without _orders_, we are lost.

Camael and Siosp both went against the Will of God and were punished. Now it is our General's turn. Anna who has always been there to guide us, give us orders, tell us what to do. Why would she do that? She knows better than anyone that disobedience is the way to be executed. _Why disobey when we were created specifically to obey orders?_ With a sense of discomfort mixed with shame, I try very hard not to linger on some of the dangerous thoughts that once crossed my mind. Or to think back about the tens of thousands of rebels executed when Camael died on the cross.

I am a good soldier. A good son. I will stay on the right path.

Lost in my thoughts, I watch the kite dive and twirl.

Camael's death affected Heaven greatly. Gabriel never reappeared and there are a lot of rumors going on about him. There have been changes to the organization to make it stricter. But above all, Angels are the ones who have changed. The mass executions of rebels by the Archangels have made a deep impression, and things are not the same anymore in the Garrison. Miz has never called us again to mock the Humans' sheer stupidity. Levanael had already lost his optimism since Siosp's death, but the last two millennia have made him even somber - I often catch him staring into the void, and bitterness tinges every word he says. Uriel has grown more aggressive and sarcastic than ever, and no longer relates the goat story.

In hindsight I realize now that Anna is probably the one who has changed the most. Sometimes I could see fascination and envy in her green eyes whenever we were in a Human Paradise, and her compassion for human suffering has only grown stronger with each passing century.

Is this misguided compassion what drove her to disobedience? For Anna was telling the truth. Demons are up to something, and they have indeed... infected dozens of babies, including the newest addition to Cain's direct lineage. Did she know about this? Should we have listened to her?

No. The reason why the hierarchy forbade us to intervene and why we weren't given any information is that we shouldn't be interested in it in the first place. That is not our role. And if there is one thing I learned from the mistakes the soldiers in the Garrison made, it's that we must stay at our place. Soldiers don't need to know every detail of the Lord's strategy and plans.

I look back down at the autistic man’s soul.

Things have changed in Heaven over the past two thousand years, as they have on Earth, and everything would be so much easier if all Humans were as pure as this one.

Just like Baradiel had predicted, Camael's message had been poorly interpreted. Although a handful of Humans have understood it, for the vast majority of people it has been twisted, misused for bloodshed or to justify unspeakable acts. Humans have even managed to form several different cults from the same basis, all battling each other over insignificant theological points.

Some of my brethren are pleased that Humans fear and honor God, even if they do so by spilling blood and spreading hypocrisy. I think differently. To me, the result is not worth the sacrifice. Camael died for this, and I watched him die.

** _All the Garrison soldiers, hop, hurry up, into the Hall of Justice, now!_ **

Zachariah's voice echoes clearly through my head, which makes me uneasy. For millions of years, we have been summoned by Anna's voice. And to think that never again...

I need to stay focused. I spread my wings and fly away in a fluid movement, extracting myself from this Paradise's peacefulness.

Zachariah is calling us, probably because we still haven't found Anna. But how are we supposed to carry out any kind of mission without a leader to guide us?

* * *

"On your feet, get in line!"

Zachariah's voice sounds louder in the empty space of the Hall of Justice.

I fold my wings as I land with a clacking sound of claws, then line up in the row between Hester and Ephra. Facing us, Zachariah is sitting at the solid wood desk up on the dais. He is alone, and the auditorium stands behind us are empty. The auditorium hasn't changed since I have last seen it, quite a while ago, before the Apocalypse even happened. On the two occasions that brought me here, the three Archangels stood where Zachariah now stands. Compared to them, he looks very small.

The place hasn't changed a bit. Circumstances have. And so have we.

Gabriel had not given a sign of life since Jesus Christ's death, and Michael and Raphael have not once shown themselves to us since. Hierarchical ranks are stricter now, and it would be out of question today for soldiers of our rank to speak directly to an Archangel. Everything has to go through our immediate superior. Which we no longer have.

Even just talking to Zachariah is a breach of regulation, but the situation requires it.

Miz and Pmox join us together, closely followed by Zedekiel, always the latecomer. He smooths down his ruffled feathers and lines up as well.

Zachariah rises and clasps his hands behind his back, giving us a smug look.

"Well, it has been a while since the last time we met! Time really flies by... But the past is the past, and the present is all that matters. Now, we’ve got a lot of boring formalities to deal with and I’ve got a schedule to keep to. Let's get started!"

His dark blue eyes are scrutinizing us slyly.

"It's been a week since Anna rebelled and slipped through your fingers. But that's not important, you'll catch her sooner or later. The reason I have summoned you is that the Council has decided, in view of your complete failure that we must put you under the authority of a new General without delay."

I share a look with Hester. Replace Anna? It does make sense. Well, it won't be easy for me to get used to another General. But the Council has a point. We cannot function without a leader to direct our actions.

Balthazar impertinently raises a finger.

"And who shall take on the chore - oh sorry, I meant the honor - my dear Zach? Please tell me it's not one of those uptight slackers from the administration."

"Nah," Zachariah brushes the question aside. "We won't be wasting staff to manage your team of aspiring rebels, not with the current reforms and upcoming shifts in functions. Nah. The hierarchy had foreseen this happening quite some time ago, considering Anna's potential for trouble. A rehabilitation session on her file was bad enough for them to think ahead of a replacement. One of you has been chosen to take over..."

"If that’s me, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline," Balthazar huffs.

The entire Garrison is listening attentively and I can hear Uriel snickering quietly. Zachariah seems offended for a second, then resumes assertively:

"… the hierarchy has selected the most suitable profile to fulfill the position and responsibilities. An Angel who has many times proven his devotion and reliability, his bravery in the battlefield, his respect for rules and hierarchy, his sense of sacrifice and initiative, his stoicism in the most critical situations... Anyway! The list goes on and on: skills, reliability, experience, yadda yadda yadda. Add every praising words you can think of, it will save me the trouble."

"How exciting. And who would be this paragon of perfection?"

The oversized room fills with the silky rustling of wings nervously brushing against each other as we glance at each other.

The wisest choice to replace Anna would certainly be Baradiel, given his experience, his wisdom, his...

"Castiel. Step forward."

I look up sharply at Zachariah in astonishment. All eyes are on me, and silence falls heavily. I take two steps forward stiffly, and the clattering sound of my claws on the marble floor echoes loudly.

_M__e_... replacing Anna?

Zachariah slams his hands on the desk, leaning forward.

"Congratulations, Castiel! You are now officially the General of the Garrison."

Snapping his fingers, he motions at me to look up. I do as I'm instructed, standing still while a fountain of vibrating light pours down from the ceiling and falls upon me, engulfing me and melting into my Grace. I can feel it brightening and growing stronger, and suddenly, there is a steady stream of information rushing into me, like I've always been aware of all this. New connections are opening up, unlocking communication ports, detailed maps of Heaven, spells and sigils I never knew existed, and…

Empty charts? Diagrams?

In a blink of an eye, the light is gone and the Hall of Justice looks quite dim. My wings are open wide and my Grace is simmering with all this new knowledge.

"And now, here's your first order to give to your soldiers: that they should get lost, shoo. There are a few things I need to tell you about your duties before you assume the position, and it's highly confidential."

I look back down, folding my wings tightly behind my back. I glance over my shoulder at my brothers – my _soldiers_. Pmox seems impressed, Balthazar amused, while Hester nods to me excitedly.

"Soldiers, you are dismissed."

My voice sounds commanding, but the words I speak echo Anna's like ashes. The Garrison flies off in a rustle of feathers, leaving me alone with Zachariah. When I turn back to him, he is staring at me intently, his head tilted to the side with a mocking gleam in his eyes.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Well, how does it feel to give orders?"

"Strange."

Shaking his head with a snigger, he comes down from the dais, joining me in just a few steps.

"You'll get used to it soon enough."

Once he stands in front of me, he pats me on the back with his wing in a somewhat forced familiarity.

"You're one of the big shots now, Castiel. Welcome to the upper class! Of course you begin with the lowest rank and at the 133rd grade, but if you fulfill specific objectives you can rise up very quickly in the hierarchy. With your clean history, you could even manage a proper division and join the Council in a few centuries, if you don't do anything stupid."

"Why me? Why have I been chosen? Baradiel has more experience, Ephra is a better strategist, Uriel is more powerful, Htmorda plays by the rules more than I do, Rachel…"

Zachariah blinks, then lifts a finger to interrupt me.

"Yes yes I know, they're all _brilliant_, no need to praise them so much. Why you? I'd think it's obvious. Your fondness for the Neanderthals had been noticed, at the time, and the fact that you didn't rebel against their extinction as I had the stupidity to do myself for the dinosaurs was noted and appreciated. You've been tested since then and you've met all the requirements. Remember the Humans on their boat during the Flood? Well, that was actually a trial meant for you! How do you think they survived so long on that piece of wood without some kind of celestial help?"

So these poor Humans have been used as _bait_ to test my loyalty? Shock silences me and I stare at him unblinkingly, forcing back the raw anger rising deep inside of me. I try to push back the memory of this family, this crying father, this innocent child.

I need to stay focused. I am the leader of the Garrison now. I have responsibilities, and I must prove that I am able to carry out the Will of God no matter what it is. Without question.

"More stupid questions? No? Good, now come with me so I can show you your office and explain your new functions."

He spreads his wings and I am quick to follow him when he flies out. We end up in a white corridor lined with white doors on both sides as far as the eye can see. Angels walk about busily without paying any attention to us.

I remember this endless corridor. This is where Joshua had gathered us all, on the day Heaven was created.

"And this is Anna's office, which is yours now."

He opens a door on the left, leading us into a room just as bright, white and cold. The only difference with the corridor is that the desk is littered with parchments, tablets and other items.

"I will let you get settled in and do some tidying up. One of your first tasks will be to archive this mess and update it. Parchment and rocks are nice but outdated, and you need to keep up with the other sections."

I nod, gently touching a stack of scrolls with my fingertips. There are some scattered words that catch my eye.

_-Apocalypse-_

_-Cage-_

_-Lucifer-_

_-Armageddon-_

_-66 s_ _eals_ _-_

Zachariah lets out a frustrated grunt.

"They just scheduled a meeting and they want both of us to be there. I'm going to have to shorten your formation. You must have gotten some empty schedules shoved into your head, haven't you?"

"I have."

"Perfect. Just activate them by focusing your Grace on the list next to it, so you can add your name to the group of commanders of divisions. You will then be automatically notified of all scheduled meetings."

I close my eyes and focus, and suddenly the chart is filled with scheduled meetings, room number, hours and participants.

My timetable is already busy for the next two decades.

"It’s done."

"Good. The room 3609 that Anna used will remain at your disposal for now, but other divisions might need it occasionally. So it would be safer to schedule your meetings ahead of time to make sure you get it."

I follow his advice by booking the meeting room for tonight.

"You're a fast learner. Good, very good. Chop-chop, let's go, follow me!"

We leave Anna's office – _my_ office – and walk down the corridor. Zachariah keeps talking as we walk and I do my best to organize the information in my head – a notification informs me that we have to be in room 324 in less than five minutes.

"It’s a lot to absorb all at once, but you’ll get used to it. If there's one piece of advice I can give you, it's to take care of your reputation. Reputations tend to stick, especially bad ones. You have no idea how hard it is to collect credentials and responsibilities when you've gone through rehabilitation in your past - oh but I guess you know this already: Anna experienced this as well. You've got a fairly decent record, so don't mess it up. Because then you suffer the consequences for the rest of eternity. Ah! This is the administration, the office of forms and reports. This is where you'll deliver your mission reports and everything related."

I glance into the office where hundreds of Angels are working on files in a deafening silence, each one sitting at a desk, head down. Zachariah's hand clasps on my shoulder.

"One last thing: as you already know, except to deal with a few inside details, we haven't been receiving orders directly for millennia. You will be required to receive Revelations to stay up to date on the Will of Heaven - you will be notified whenever necessary."

"I understand."

He squints, tilting his head to watch me more closely.

"You’re not the chatty type. That’s good. I expect you to be a much better General than Anna - hard to do worse, if you ask me. Don't disappoint me, I vouched for you. I will see you at the meeting!"

He lets go of my shoulder and goes away, leaving me alone with my thoughts tumbling around in my head.

* * *

"Let’s start with the news. As you know, Anael is still on the run since he rebelled, and the Council has just assigned one of his former soldiers, Castiel - also known as the Angel of Thursday over the past millennium - to take over as General of the Garrison. He will be attending our meetings from now on."

The Angel chairing the meeting pauses and makes a hand gesture in my direction. There are eyes sizing me up and whispers being exchanged. The meeting room is large, with more than a hundred Angels sitting as I do around the spotlessly white oval table. Except for Zachariah and Brap I don't know anyone.

"Why bother remembering his name? He's from the Garrison, so he's bound to rebel sooner or later. That's what they do."

There's a few hushed sneers.

"We only ever hear about the Garrison to keep track of who's dead and who's rebelling."

"Don’t forget about the goats!"

"There isn't a millennium going by without them messing things up!"

"It’s like they’re doing it on purpose."

"Hey! We should place bets on this one, too! I was right about Anael, only just a couple of years earlier!"

"You got it three centuries wrong, Brap. Ecanus won, he's the one who guessed the closest date right by 34 years."

"I would be in favor of having the Garrison decommissioned. We are no longer involved with Humans, so we have no use for the soldiers of the Garrison anymore, all they do is rebel at any occasion."

"And don’t let me started on the mess Anael’s left behind when he took off…"

Narrowing my eyes, I silently look at the Angels chattering as if I were not right there.

Is this the kind of meeting Anna has been attending for millions of years, vainly begging for support? Surrounded by Angels calling her by the name she no longer wanted, using masculine pronouns to address her? Now I understand why she used to be so angry and frustrated every time she would come back from a meeting... She mentioned it a few times, but I didn't realize how little the Garrison is valued in the higher spheres.

"Well, there's no point in debating on this trivial information," says the Angel chairing the meeting. "Let's move on to the important issues, unless we aim to be as productive as the administration's records department officers."

I'm the only one in the room who doesn't chuckle pretentiously at those words. I don't understand what's so funny.

"Now, about the attribution of credits to the divisions and the promotion of..."

I’ve stopped listening already. Numbers and charts are mentioned, there are heated debates on administrative details, and everyone seems very invested.

I'm a warrior. I was made to obey efficiently and without a second thought. Not for this.

But I will prove myself worthy of my new responsibilities. I will reform the Garrison, I will make it get the respect it deserves. I will show them that I am a better General than Anna, and that I will never disobey like she did.

* * *

This is the first time I find myself alone in room 3609. This room has hosted so many of our meetings since Heaven was created... It is strange to be here, standing in front of the table in complete silence and solitude. Anna's glaring absence makes me uncomfortable.

My sister may have committed the worst crime there is – _disobedience_ – but I can't help feeling sadness. Or is it wistfulness? I experienced the same thing about Siosp and Camael, however wrong they may have been.

I have a lot of work to do to prove my worth as a General, and also to assert my new position of authority over my brothers who have always known me as their equal. I close my eyes and push my voice into the celestial channels.

** _The Garrison with the addition of Hester and Virgil is summoned to room 3609. Immediately._ **

I slowly open my eyes again. I inadvertently used the same kind of wording that Anna did, and my voice applied to these familiar words sounds achingly wrong.

Rachel and Ephra are the first to get here, soon to be followed by Miz and Pmox. I motion for them to sit down and they comply. I sense it's going to take me a few years to get used to having the Garrison obey _me_. Hester arrives too and winks at me.

"Congratulations, Castiel! They couldn't possibly have chosen better than you!"

As his hand pats my shoulder, I squint and signal him to sit down as well.

"So you’re the big boss now, Cas," says Uriel as he lands at my left side. "Did you make any new friends up there?"

He is looking at me in amusement as the last of them finally comes in - all of the Garrison soldiers are here now. Should I put an end to such familiarity, now that I am their superior? This promotion caught me completely unprepared, and now I have to deal with many issues that I never thought I would have to face.

"Sit down. We will begin now."

"Aww, Cassy, I get tingly all over when you take a bossy voice, you know."

Balthazar. Of course.

My brothers – my _soldiers_ – settled in their usual seats, chatting and laughing in a relaxed way. Zedekiel is even smoothing down his wings, and Pmox enthusiastically shares an anecdote from his former division with Miz.

Anna has never really sought respect from her soldiers. I won't make the same mistake. The Garrison needs discipline and order. We are soldiers first, not friends.

"Be quiet, or I won't think twice before sending you to rehabilitation."

Laughter ceases and silence falls. Pmox is staring at me wide eyed. Balthazar's composure wavers just for a split second before he pulls himself together and makes what looks like a military salute, most likely inspired by Humans.

"_Sir yes sir!"_

I stare them down as hard as I can.

"As of today I am the General of the Garrison. You will never act without my clearance and you will follow the rules very strictly. I won't allow any mistake and disrespect will be punished. Balthazar, your little jaunts to Earth are over. Pmox, you will undergo intensive training, I will not tolerate your clumsiness on mission. Zedekiel, it's in your best interest to never be late again. You will present me with a detailed report of your accomplishments since the day you were created by next week, and then I will expect a daily report of your activities and movements. Our priority is still to find Anna and execute her. I'll explain my strategy to you now."

The distant way my brothers are looking at me all of a sudden is hard to stand. I feel like I'm betraying millions of years of mutual understanding. They're now looking at me as an outsider. Almost a traitor.

Did Anna experience that same loneliness? The rejection? Miz rarely included her in our jokes and she never shared the goat story with us.

I already know that they're going to shut me out. I can see it in their eyes.

But this is for the good of the Garrison. There will be no more deaths or rebellions under my command. Never again.

"I'm nothing like Anna. Things are going to change."

The Garrison has never been quieter.

* * *

Even in her true form, Anna is fast. Relentless.

To attack her head on is like attempting to grasp a waterfall.

I know all of her moves and fighting style, and have adjusted my strategy accordingly. My Grace stiffens when she punches me in the face and dodges Levanael's blow. That was intentional. Anna drops her vigilance only a quarter of a second after she hits her target. She never corrected this flaw that I have observed over thousands of years. Instead of fighting back, I ignore the pain spreading and scorching my Grace vividly, to seize her arm and restrain her. So does Baradiel.

No one equals Uriel when it comes to brute strength. He is unquestionably my Garrison's greatest asset. But Uriel is slow, and I was aware that unless I restrained Anna, he would never be able to strike her.

I can see in her eyes the exact moment Anna realizes she's failed.

"_Now_, Uriel!" I yell.

The punch he throws at her is so powerful it echoes through the night, blasting her away - her arm slipped from my grasp. She stops the movement by snapping her wings open to face us again, in a fighting stance. She is bent over in pain and her Grace is gathered at the point of impact.

** _Levanael, Baradiel, _ ** ** _cut off her retreat_ ** ** _._ **

I send this silent order to my two soldiers, who obey, moving swiftly. Anna looks at us one by one, stealthily, like a tracked animal. She knows that this time, she can no longer flee. She lost her upper hand since we used a seal to expel her from her host, and Balthazar made sure no other vessel would say yes to her. It took us a year and a half, but we finally did it.

"There is nowhere for you to go, Anna," I say in a calm voice.

Anna slowly lowers her arms and squares her shoulders, darting her three eyes right into mine. We are hovering so high in the night sky, nearly reaching the end of the Earth's atmosphere. Seen from here, the planet looks so peaceful…

"I can see you make an excellent General, Cas'. I had no doubt you would."

We've been ordered to kill Anna on sight. And while the thought of taking my sister's life with my own hands pains me, Anna knowingly disobeyed. Orders are orders. I let my blade slide into the palm of my hand.

I don’t understand.

Camael rebelled to save Cain. Siosp doubted God. Anna, though?

"Why did you disobey, Anna?"

Anna tilts her head to the side, her eyes filled with sadness and... _pity?_

"I wanted, for once in my life, to do what I think is right, before I left you. But you stopped me."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't. And I don't expect you to understand what I'm about to do either."

I widen my eyes when she starts to chant a spell in Enochian I've never heard before. Her eyes blaze with light, the green color fading away – her Grace comes alive in her body and radiates a power that makes the air throb in thick waves. I have no idea what she's trying to do, but it doesn't bode well – she must be stopped at all costs.

"Kill her!"

Blade in hand, my soldiers are trying to reach her, but they can't get close. It seems the energy thickens the air and repels us, while the sounds get heavier. Anna's figure is now blindingly bright and her outlines are fading into a radiant sphere. My Grace freezes as I watch her rip herself in half and utter a chilling scream. The kind of scream I haven't heard since Siosp died.

And suddenly, with a surprisingly silent explosion - as if we were immersed in the depths of the ocean - the sphere splits into two comets that fall separately towards the Earth.

"Levanael, Baradiel, follow this one! Uriel, with me!"

My weapon melts back into my Grace and I dive to the ground to follow one of the comets, my wings lined up along my body. The air I'm slicing through slips between my feathers with a hissing sound. The Earth bathed in moonlight is drawing near at high speed, and I reopen my wings just in time to make a smooth landing in a field with Uriel by my side. Around the comet’s impact, the ground is glowing blue. From its center, a majestic tree emerges and grows to a towering height. Within seconds, its roots plunge into the ground and it has grown to an imposing size. The branches are covered with lush foliage glowing with a celestial aura I would recognize anywhere.

"Her Grace..."

I think I understand now. Anna ripped her Grace off to sever it from her holy spirit. Deliberately.

"Traitor," Uriel snarls. "At least Camael never _chose_ to betray his nature..."

With the tip of my finger, I cautiously touch the trunk of the tree to extract the Grace in the form of long filaments of pure light nesting in the palm of my hand into a wavering ball of light, barely larger than a soul. The capacity of a Grace to adjust its size and shrink enough to be contained in a confined space - like a vessel - will always amaze me.

**_"Levanael, Baradiel,"_** I call to the celestial channels. _**"**__**Have you located Anna’s holy spirit**_**?"**

_**No**_, the answer echoes into my head. _**The comet has dissolved above a city.**__**It could be anywhere.**_

"The mission is a failure," I say as I rise to my feet.

I find myself torn up. I dread having to tell my superiors what happened, but at the same time I'm somehow relieved that I didn't have to kill my sister, no matter how baffled I am by her actions.

"A failure? This is worse than failure!"

I turn my head to Uriel. There is a hard look in his purple eyes as he stares at the tree.

"What do you mean?"

Clenching his fists, he glares at me fiercely.

"Don't you see? Our own General who is supposed to be our guide threw away his nature, his immortality, his power, and turned his back on his family for... for this worthless vermin! Virgil warned me that this would happen, that we would all end up becoming slaves to those hairless apes if nothing was done... He was right!"

As the new General of the Garrison, I should use my authority to command him to calm down, but I choose not to. While I don't share his distaste for the evolution of these fish we've been watching for tens of millions of years, I understand Uriel's ire all too well.

Anna betrayed us. She betrayed, insulted and abandoned us all. She chose mortals over us who have been at her side and at her orders since forever.

I close my fist around our fallen sister's glowing Grace.

"Anna will live and die among mortals. That will be her punishment."

I hold out my hand to Uriel, and in one look we share what words couldn't possibly express.

Anger.

Disarray.

Sorrow.

"You are the most powerful among us, Uriel. Make sure she never gets her Grace back. She no longer deserves it."

Uriel nods, closing his hand on the shining orb.

"Thank you, Castiel."

There are crickets singing and leaves rustling from the trees at our feet. Uriel falls silent, his wings clenched behind his back.

In his hand, Anna's Grace is twirling, leaving our questions unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (next sunday, may 10th)
> 
> _"Oh God Almighty, I haven't laughed this hard since the goat and the Babel Tower!"_


	24. The righteous man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Two thousand years after Jesus died, Gabriel disappeared and celestial interventions on Earth came to an end, Anna rebels by trying to kill Azazel, and manages to escape from her own soldiers sent to kill her by ripping off her own Grace. Appointed to replace her at the head of the Garrison, Castiel is shocked by the hierarchy's contempt. Determined to restore his army's reputation, he becomes bossy and distant with his soldiers...
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 1**.

"Where is the righteous man?"

I tighten my grip on the demon, compressing the black smoke into its hideous appearance, trapped between my translucent fingers. But the only answer I get is a scream of agony as the rotten soul bursts into flames and dissolves in my fist.

Crushed to dust. Again.

None of the sub-demons we have encountered so far have survived long enough to answer our questions.

"Oh," Uriel chuckles, "broken already? You squeezed too hard again, Cas..."

I shake my hand in disgust to get rid of the filth and raise my head, flapping my wings to rise above the Garrison, which radiates light in the midst of this damp darkness.

We wiped off all demons we could find by questioning them one by one, with no results.

"Dean Winchester isn’t here," I mutter, narrowing my eyes.

I brush my hand against the chalky walls of the now empty alcoves. The area is so dark that even our combined Graces can barely light it up. I had so much hope when we stormed into this section of Hell a few years ago. The immensity of this place, the cliff carved with endless galleries – everything suggested that it was the perfect location to hide the righteous man. It was swarming with demons and doomed souls in endless suffering, eating and drinking but never able to quench their thirst or hunger, only managing to tear their guts open. Many others would endlessly throw up their organs, convulsively vomiting up to their own bones until there was nothing left of them, only to be put back together and do it all over again. Some of them still partly human were practicing torture, while others were being torn apart on the ground by monstrous hounds. Ground now littered with the rotting corpses of those vile abominations that we slaughtered to the last.

And all of this – the stakes driven into their chest, the extracted teeth, the countless agonies - was merely a figment of their imagination, much like the happiness of souls in Heaven is. Stripped of their carnal shell, these souls only feel a phantom suffering, directly drawn from their weak minds. A suffering that is no less strikingly real for them.

That will be different for Dean Winchester. For his soul is powerful and strong-willed like every direct descendant of Cain, and mere mental torment will not be enough to break it. To break the first seal.

I know the terrible treatment demons inflict on powerful souls. For them, torture is not an illusion but very real: it cuts into the very essence of the soul, dissecting it raw, until it breaks down and rots. Like gangrene. Until all there is left of it is a demon, stripped of everything that once defined its identity.

We need to hurry. The righteous man has been subjected to the worst torments of Hell for almost ten years now, and we have to find him before he breaks. Unless he has already failed…

"What should we do now, Castiel?" asks Ephra as he inspects the area to make sure we haven't missed any demons or souls.

This part of Hell is now empty and the silence is deafening.

"We begin the siege of the next dimension."

My soldiers nod, and we fly through the suffocating darkness to the gaping holes into the reality. There are hundreds of paths ahead of us. We have already been through about a dozen of them, and I point out one that is still unexplored.

Hell is not simply a pit as I thought it would be – like Heaven, it is made of many dimensions connected by pathways that are sometimes physical, sometimes immaterial, like holes in the fabric of reality. But unlike Heaven, Hell is more flexible, less predictable. For one, time flows differently: the decade we've spent here is equivalent to a month on Earth. Now I understand how Lucifer managed to turn hundreds of thousands of infant souls in such a short period of time and raise an army for the Apocalypse. A moment on Earth feels like an eternity here.

There are hundreds of demons attempting to shut down the path in front of us, and I shout orders to launch the offensive. It is obvious that Hell is working hard to stop us from saving the righteous man. We must find him. Otherwise, Earth could be facing another Apocalypse, much worse than the last one. This time, once released, Lucifer won't stop as he did in the past. He will destroy Humanity.

That can never happen.

* * *

Eighteen years have gone by since we entered Hell, and we have won many battles and conquered dozens of dimensions, some of them as vast as a continent. And still no sign of the righteous man.

My blade makes a hissing sound as I slice through the black smoke demons are made of. Hester's silky wing is brushing against my back – in every battle he spontaneously positions himself to have my back covered.

The demon offensive is massive. Several thousand of them are surrounding and attacking us. But it doesn't matter how many there are. Demons cannot hurt, let alone kill, an Angel. They are insignificant, the real danger is not there. It is obvious that they know they are powerless, and their attacks only serve to keep us busy while others are chanting spells that make our Grace shudder and stir. They're trying to send us back to Heaven, which would definitely endanger our mission. Coming back to Hell would waste a precious time we don't have.

I have given orders to kill as a priority the demons on the sidelines chanting their evil spells. Uriel is enjoying himself, blasting away and burning to ashes hundreds of demons with each one of his mighty blows.

"Uriel! Control your strength, you need to leave some of them alive for us to interrogate!" I shout over the explosions.

On my right, Zedekiel seizes a demon and slams it to the ground.

"Where is the righteous man?"

The demon is struggling between my soldier's fingers, vomiting a black, gooey fluid.

"Up your ass!"

Zedekiel squints, tightening his grip. The demon stops cackling and chokes, then his body starts flickering before turning to ashes in seconds.

"Again? Why are these demons so weak? I wasn’t even squeezing that hard!" Zedekiel exclaims.

He growls in frustration, his feathers puffed up, and rises again with a few flaps of his wings as he tries to catch another demon. But they all fall apart before we can get the information we need. I hold my blade tight and fly higher to get a better look at the battlefield. Most of the demons are dead, and my soldiers went off to pursue and interrogate those who are still alive. Like all other dimensions we’ve been through, this place is bathed in shadows and foul air. It is a wasteland of rocks oozing moisture, dead trees and gruesome torture machines.

Where could the righteous man be?

With a silky rustle of wings Baradiel appears at my side. Radiant with light, he gazes down silently.

"I never thought finding the righteous man would be that difficult..." I confess in a low voice.

When Azazel died by Dean Winchester's hand, it caused quite a stir in Heaven and we started to pay close attention to him. We were all surprised to hear that a Human had brought down the Fallen Cherub – and Uriel was particularly unhappy with the news. As for me, I had wrongly assumed that the King of Hell's death would put an end to demonic activities on Earth. But obviously, someone else took Azazel's place on the throne and appears to be just as eager to bring the Apocalypse to Earth. Our current difficulties is proof of this. Someone wants to stop us from saving the righteous man.

Baradiel crosses his arms, and his three fiery eyes seem to blaze even brighter.

"The demons want to set free their creator, Lucifer, and the righteous man is the key to achieve that. They must have hidden him as well as they could and will fight tooth and nail. We would do the same if we were in their place."

I take a moment to ponder this.

"Indeed, Lucifer is their creator just like God is ours… Do they love Lucifer the way we love our Father?"

Baradiel casts a contemplative glance at me.

"I often forget that you soldiers of the Garrison are so young and have been kept away for a long time, stationed on Earth to watch over the Humans… There are so many things you don't know…"

"What do you mean?"

The older Angels do have this tendency to look down on us as if they know something we don't. Something that occurred before the Garrison was created.

Now, Baradiel is my soldier, he is under my command. I _have_ the authority to demand answers.

"Tell me, Baradiel."

"God did not create us on His own, Castiel."

My Grace freezes in my body and I slowly blink. Baradiel is watching me with his red blazing gaze.

"The Mother of All contributed in the creation of some species. Father created the Leviathans with her help, then the Archangels and the Angels. And then one day, He created the Humans without her. It was to protect His latest creations that dinosaurs were annihilated, Leviathans locked away, and the Mother of All was banished because she had objected to it. I believe that is why, ever since Azazel set her free, she has been striving to make all her monsters out from Humans. Out of revenge, I suppose. Or perhaps to bring her personal touch to these beings that God created without her, and thus make them her own."

My Grace is slowly flowing inside my body. I avert my eyes to watch the battlefield and my soldiers who are trying to interrogate the demons.

The Mother of Monsters, who sacrificed her own freedom in Sodom to protect her hybrid children, is therefore to some extent my Creator just like the Lord is. We have absolutely nothing in common with the Humans that Father created in His image, that He chose over us. Even the _Mother of All_ chose them over us. Technically, we are closer to Leviathans than we are to Humans. Ancient creations. Failed experiments. The draft before the masterpiece. Had we been a threat to Humans, would we now be locked away in Purgatory as well? Or wiped out like the dinosaurs?

I don’t know what I’m feeling. But it hurts.

* * *

For over three decades we have been in Hell, completely cut off from Heaven. The constant silence in my head makes me uneasy, and I can see that my soldiers are uncomfortable as well. Their eyes are shifty, nervous, and they appear to have a need to whisper words to each other, like a poor substitute.

Our mission is of prime importance, and yet we are only thirteen soldiers, myself included, to accomplish it. In the rush, I was unable to request additional troops, and we were even deprived of Balthazar who remained in Heaven to provide training for the possession of vessels. The fate of all Humanity rests on the Garrison. Or should I say, the fate of all Humanity rests on the righteous man. I learned from Revelations that even if he were to break, only he can stop Lucifer. I don't know what this means, but it's a fact.

No matter whether he breaks or not, Dean Winchester is our best weapon, our only hope, and we must save him from Hell. At all costs.

"Azazel shaped Hell after his own mind, into an inextricable maze. I think it is designed so by rushing into a too-obvious pathway it will only take us further away from our destination."

I turn my head towards Baradiel who perches on a large rock illuminated by the torrent of lava where drowned souls are begging us to help them. The demons have retreated behind a door carved with Enochian sigils that keep us from coming nearer. All we can do now is to stand there and wait for a demon to come out, so that we can interrogate it and compel it to open the way for us.

"What do you mean, Baradiel?"

He's staring at me, his red eyes burning like fire, blending into the glowing lava streaming all around us.

"This…"

He points at the Enochian sigils.

"… is obviously a trap. It’s way too easy."

"We've searched through all of Hell," I say, squinting, "and this is the only place we could find that has been warded against Angels. The righteous man has got to be here. For what other reason would demons want to keep us out?"

"To waste our time, I guess, even though these signs won't stop us forever," says Ephra. "I would be willing to bet that we won't find anything behind that door."

But if not there, where could the righteous man be? We have searched all of the dimensions in vain. Baradiel pushes away a semi-corrupted soul that tries to cling to one claw of his foot.

"I believe that a section of Hell has been detached so we could waste our time there, in a maze. Could be a decoy. Have you noticed that we've only come across young, uninformed demons, hounds, and damned souls? Where are Lucifer's eldest demons? Where is his cage? We are indeed in Hell, but in the wrong part of it."

My Grace grows very still as I examine the Enochian sigils more closely. If what Baradiel says is correct, we have wasted thirty years fighting small fry and searching exactly where the demons wanted us to be.

"We need to find the hidden pathways..."

"Stop me if I'm getting this wrong, Cas," Uriel groans, "we're going to have to go back through all seventy-four dimensions that we've cleaned up, and find a hidden pathway that could be _anywhere_ in the air, on the ground, or even buried? Sounds like fun..."

The Garrison failed to stop Anna from escaping. I will not allow another failure to be added to our record. We will go back to Heaven in victory, or we won't go back at all.

"We have been sent down here to rescue the righteous man, and orders are orders." I look up with fierce determination. "We won't leave Hell without him, not even if it takes us thousands of years to find him."

Zedekiel's wings slump down dejectedly, but he straightens up when I throw him a warning glance - all of his feathers ruffle up with a silky rustle.

"We will cover every dimension and proceed area by area!"

My soldiers follow my order and the search begins. Time is running out.

* * *

"We have to give him that, Azazel definitely had a sense of humor."

"And to think that this whole time, the pathway we were looking for was hidden _right_ next to Hell's entrance..."

"It would have been easier for us to find our way around with a map!"

"Oh well, Pmox, how come we didn't think of that? What about a guided tour, some souvenirs and postcards too, hm?"

Pmox blinks at Zedekiel's snide tone, head tilted to the side. Even after all this time, the former plankton soldier still seems a bit clueless when faced with mockery. I notice Miz giving Zedekiel a disapproving glare.

"Everyone knows that. The best way to hide something is to keep it in plain sight."

I interrupt Levanael with an irritated wave of hand. We've been in Hell for forty years running around in circles. There's no time to lose.

"Let us pray that the righteous man hasn't yielded and that we're not too late...," I say sternly. "Soldiers, take position!"

"His father held out a whole century and he wasn't even the man of the prophecy," says Ephra. "So why wouldn’t this one make it too?"

I nod silently, but I have a bad feeling about this.

I signal for Miz to open the pathway. He holds out one hand and delivers a powerful wave of energy to shred the invisible veil that was hiding the gateway we have been searching for so long. We rush straight into the opening, weapon in hand and driven by a sense of duty and mission.

We were expected.

Hundreds of demons grab Htmorda and drag him away from our group before we can defend him. At my command, Uriel unleashes his fury on the enemy – and the result is quite a change from what we've been used to since we entered Hell. These demons are stronger and tougher than the ones we have been fighting for the past forty years. And still, they are no match for Uriel who jubilantly tears them apart.

"Htmorda !" Pmox is yelling in the crowd.

Too late. We can see our brother being restrained by demons chanting their spell, but they're out of reach and we're powerless. A dazzling flash of light, and Htmorda vanishes into thin air. Sent all the way back to Heaven.

I can’t afford losing soldiers. Not when there’s so few of us. Not now that we're so close to achieving our mission.

"After me!"

My soldiers obey as I rush into the gateway cleared by Uriel that the demons seemed to be guarding. We barge into a dark and cold dimension, with no floors or walls, just endless void as far as the eye can see, crisscrossed by countless damp chains where tortured souls are hung. There is a heavy, sticky fog of red and green tones floating around, screams echoing along with waves of suffering.

More demons are coming out of nowhere and I order the Garrison to stand in a circle back to back.

"Create a diversion and interrogate the demons! Baradiel and Uriel, with me!"

My two soldiers come to my side, and we dive straight into the void, slaloming between the chains sticky with blood. Demons - about a dozen of them - are trying to corner us, so I halt and signal Baradiel to fly around them to cut off their retreat.

"Where is the righteous man?" I snarl as I stare them down. "Answer, or we will obliterate every one of you."

One of the demons giggles lewdly, licking its lips with a thick black tongue. There's something familiar about that hideous face.

"So we meet again, mh? I've been told you quite enjoyed the goat joke!"

Images and sounds instantly flood my memory, taking me back thousands of years ago. The city where naked Humans engaged in obscene behaviors. The horse mounting a woman, the goat being pursued by horny men... I remember the carefree laughter of my brethren, how hard I was laughing myself...

"Lust..." Uriel drawls, the tone of his voice halfway between contempt and amusement.

"Oh, I wish you had holes in your pretty glowing bodies, the things I could teach you... So many possibilities, with all those four arms of yours..."

I narrow my eyes. We are on a mission. The demon is merely attempting to distract us from our task.

I hold my blade more threateningly.

"Tell us where is the righteous man or you will perish."

"Haven’t you heard?" answers another demon in a sugary tone. "Alastair worked so well on him, he made Dean his best student..."

"You’re too laaaaaaate..." singsongs yet another one who then starts cackling loudly.

I hurl myself at that demon and grasp the black smoke he is made of, condensing it between my fingers.

"Kill the others!"

Uriel and Baradiel obey and go after the demons fleeing from all sides.

Left alone with the abomination, I press the sharp end of my blade on its neck.

"You’re lying," I hiss. "The righteous man did not break."

"Why would I lie when the truth is so hilarious? It took us some time, but Dean is now our next best torturer after Alastair. A true artist. Watching him at work is pure delight. You can tell he _enjoys_ it..."

We arrived too late.

But all is not lost yet. Our mission is to rescue the righteous man, no matter whether he's broken or not. Because right now, Dean Winchester is Humanity's last hope. The last bulwark against the Apocalypse.

A silky rustle of feathers lets me know that Baradiel and Uriel have returned.

"Lust escaped," Uriel grunts. "It slipped through our fingers like an eel."

Not sparing my soldiers a glance, I tighten my grip on the demon uttering an agonizing death rattle. I thrust the sharp end of my weapon slightly into its neck, tearing out a scream out of its throat while its decayed body begins to flicker. I have to be careful not to kill it if I want answers.

"_Speak_."

"Over here! He’s over here!" it chokes, pointing downwards with one finger.

The agony written all over its distorted face is enough to prove it's not lying.

"Not so clever now that you’re on your own, huh?" Uriel chuckles.

I glance at the direction the demon points, then shove my blade through the demon's skull in a fluid motion. There is a foul stench of sulfur rising as it dies, and I shake my hand in disgust.

_**W****e lost**** Virgil, Pmox ****and**** Miz! ****They’ve been sent back to Heaven****!**_ echoes Hester’s clear voice in my head.

There are only nine of us left now. It's time to launch a final offensive to save the righteous man.

** _"Retreat and rejoin us immediately."_ **

_ **Yes, boss** **!** _

"We are going to attack. Get ready."

The glowing shapes of my soldiers are flying closer at high speed, pursued by swirls of thick, black smoke. This is the moment.

I spread my wings.

"Charge!"

We all dive in the direction the demon indicated. Avoiding the chains and hooks the void is filled with, we fight our way with our blades and waves of pure energy through a swarming mass of demons trying to hold us back by all means. I'm slashing them to pieces, targeting as a priority those shouting out their spells to send us back to Heaven. Uriel's violent explosions and the blasts of my soldiers' attacks briefly illuminate everything around like lightning while demons scream in agony and rage.

As I relentlessly slay demons, my eyes are searching for the righteous man.

And all of a sudden, I see it. A soul bright and radiant just like Adam and Eve's once were, but already tainted by darkness and corruption. The righteous man’s soul, without a doubt. The demon was telling the truth.

Had we arrived any later, the righteous man would have turned into a demon, permanently, and everything would have been lost. We must save him no matter what it takes.

The demons are catching up to us. With my wings clasped along my body, I let myself fall head first, diving straight towards the glow that the righteous man's soul is emitting among the whirlwind of black smoke. I reach out with my hand outstretched. Everything seems to be slowing down. Flashes of lightning are increasing, demons and Angels' shouting merge into a deafening roar.

"_CASTIEL!"_

That was Hester’s voice. But I ignore him, my eyes riveted to my mission’s target. I’m almost there. Flashes of light are flooding this world of darkness - I can feel my soldiers' presence diminishing. The demons are casting them back to Heaven one by one, taking away my army.

When my hand closes on the soul, pure white light bursts from under my fingers, washing out the demonic filth that was beginning to consume it.

I bring the soul close to me to protect it, fiercely slaying with my blade the demons that try to snatch it from me. Bright and warm in my hand, it pulses like a heart, and I can feel in my Grace the sheer terror it radiates.

"Mission accomplished!" I shout at my soldiers. "We have to get out of here!"

When I turn back to the Garrison, I find that only Uriel, Rzionr Nrzfm, and Baradiel are still there. All the others have disappeared.

We slice through the foul air and Uriel throws out waves of flashing energy to clear the way. Countless clawed hands are trying to seize us, to hold us back, but there is nothing that can stop us until we reach the exit.

I am the first one to emerge into fresh air on Earth, and the soul, safe and secure, is shining in my hand and pouring a torrent of vivid memories into my Grace – intense, painful and so many for such a short lifetime. My feathers are fluttering in the wind and the sun rays finally wrap me in their warmth after forty years of darkness. And after all the silence, the flow of my brothers whispering fills my head again, along with the overwhelming memories of the very special Human in my hand. I am bursting with triumph and the joy of accomplished duty, causing my Grace to shine more brightly than ever before.

_ **"DEAN WINCHESTER ** **IS SAVED****!" ** _ I shout to the sky with all my might, my voice overflowing all celestial channels of communication.

* * *

My soldiers cleared the area of any human presence so that I could speak to the righteous man as required by my mission. I am alone now, standing over the grave in which I have just rebuilt the body. Unlike the resurrections I accomplished after the Apocalypse, I tried my best and took my time so it could be perfect. Having the bones in the grave as a foundation made it easier for me, and I have never been so proud of a resurrection before. I even took the liberty to heal the first signs of a stomach ulcer that could have become dangerous, and to restore the liver, obviously damaged by excessive alcohol consumption. I also removed all scars from his skin - with the exception of a burn mark that I was unable to heal no matter how hard I tried.

Dean Winchester comes back to life purified, body and soul.

The sun's burning rays hit the ground as I keep my eyes riveted on the grave around which the blast of energy knocked all of the trees down. I'll probably get a complaint from Brap's division, but it doesn't matter.

My Grace is shuddering with delight and excitement. I have not spoken directly to a Human since Adam and Eve. And now that I have seen through his memories the most significant events of his life, I understand what makes the righteous man so special, worthy of saving Humanity.

The earth is stirring and two hands burst out, followed by the head - the righteous man draws a deep breath. Finally.

But just as I am about to speak to him, I receive a notification that a meeting in the Justice Hall has just been added to my schedule. Right now.

This is so frustrating. Why _now_?

Orders are orders. I take one last look at Dean Winchester and unfurl my wings. I fly away in a hurry to get it over with so that I can return as fast as I can. The wind is whistling between my feathers, and a few seconds later I land right in the middle of the Hall of Justice. Just like when I was promoted, Zachariah is standing behind the desk on the dais. But this time, part of the stands are packed, and my soldiers are standing next to Zachariah in silence.

"Castiel, about time!" Zachariah calls out cheerfully. "So nice to have you back! How was your little joyride in Hell?"

"Dark." I glance at the stands. All eyes are on me. "Can we reschedule this meeting? I was just about to talk to Dean Winchester about his mission."

There are about two hundred Angels sitting there, perfectly still. What are they doing here?

"Yes, I know. His world-saving mission, no less! Dean can wait until we're done here, he's not going anywhere, don't worry. We need to talk about the Apocalypse and all the fun that comes with it. Once the first seal was broken, the demons wasted no time, and while you were fooling around down there, they've already broken seven other seals."

"Was nothing done to stop them?"

"Heh! To each his own job!" He makes a dismissive hand gesture. "Your division, your Humans, your problem. But the hierarchy is aware that you are going to have a lot of extra work to do, and has therefore budgeted some exceptional credits to provide you with additional troops."

He rises up to his feet and dramatically waves to the stands.

"Castiel, here's more than enough to replenish your army! Two hundred soldiers just for you. Isn't it nice?"

The two hundred Angels rise as one and shout all together: "We await your orders, General!"

Zachariah looks at me smugly.

"Alright then… I will let you handle this, explain to Dean that he'll be needed soon – no need to tell him anything else, all in good time – and catch up on the news." He smooths down the feathers on his wing with the back of his wrist. "I will expect a full report on your trip to Hell by the end of the week, naturally. And while you're at it, I want you to make a topographic map of Hell: one at a scale of 1:1,000,000, and a series at a scale of 1:25,000 with an assembling table. All in 3D, of course. Vacation's over, kids! Speaking of which, Castiel... Your soldiers have popped back up all over Heaven, and I personally had to go and fetch Pmox who got lost in the Archives hallways. You owe me one."

He spreads his wings and pauses.

"Oh, just a friendly advice: take Balthazar with you to talk to our precious Apocalypse trigger man. Humans are so delicate, it would be a shame to damage our brand new savior, don't you think?"

Zachariah is gone in a flutter of wings and I throw a glance at Pmox who keeps his head lowered, looking sheepish and embarrassed. No matter how many times I've sent him to training sessions in the last twenty years, Pmox still is a mediocre soldier, not to mention his bad sense of direction. Miz is the only one not to show any sign of annoyance at his constant clumsiness.

The new recruits are waiting for my orders, all eyes on me. They will have to wait. I need to talk to Dean.

Time to delegate.

"Uriel, Rachel, take charge of the new ones and gather as much information as possible about the seals and where demons are heading next. I want a strategy outline ready by the time I come back. Balthazar, follow me."

* * *

The righteous man is here. All alone in the gas station evacuated by my soldiers, he is standing in front of a mirror and staring at the red, blistered handprint on his shoulder.

"I don't understand why I couldn't heal that burn."

"Because this is no ordinary burn, Cassy. It's not a physical wound, it is a mark left by your Grace on his soul, most likely when you grabbed him in Hell. The burn on his skin will heal on its own, but the mark will forever remain carved on his soul. As if you had signed your name on it. Anyway! Are we going to just stand here sniffing each other's asses while your poster boy for virtue is robbing the register and picking up porn, or are you going to talk to him?"

I throw him a warning look. I've been General of the Garrison for more than twenty years - not counting the warped time we've spent in Hell - but no matter how many times I've called him to order, Balthazar keeps calling me _Cassy_ and displaying utter insolence towards me.

I guess it's just part of his nature.

"Come on, don’t be so shy. You're acting like a schoolgirl on her first date. Just sneak a very thin stream of voice into his reality. Descendant of Cain or not, you need to be careful with the flow."

I look down again to the righteous man and speak in the lowest possible whisper, using the language of that region and time.

**_"Dean Winchester, _****_my name is_****_ Castiel. _****_God_** **_sent me to_****_..."_**

"No no no, you’re doing it wrong, Cassy! You're tuned to a wavelength that only dogs can hear right now! Try again a bit louder!"

Indeed, all I have managed to do is to switch on electronic devices, and the righteous man is showing signs of concern.

_**"Dean,"**_ I say in a louder voice. **_**"**_****_**My name is**_**_** Castiel, ****I am an Angel of the Lord sent to-****"**_

On ground level, the building's windows shatter - too brittle, I suppose - and Dean puts his hands over his ears. Hey, no! He won't hear me if he covers his ears. He has to listen to me, it's important.

_**"Dean!"**_ I say even louder._** "****I need to tell you about your mission!****"**_

"Hey, go easy on him, Cassy, you're going to break him! Not so loud!"

I throw him a glare as my voice fades off as Dean falls on the floor covered with shards of glass.

"Dean Winchester is a direct descendant of Cain. If Adam and Eve were able to hear and see me, he should be too. Why can't I reveal myself directly to him?"

"Whoa, calm down, it's not that easy. Thousands of years have passed since that time, and with each new generation, some properties have been lost while others have remained. To prevent incest, there has been some crossbreeding with ordinary Humans, which has weakened some of the powers in the blood. You should take a vessel, it would make it so much smoother for you. I've got a lovely bloodline designed just for you, I've been saving it for thousands of years, you'll see, it's..."

"I won’t take a vessel. I want Dean to hear my true voice and to see my true face. Surely he's capable of that."

"Aww you want him to like you for what you truly are, am I right? I didn't take you for the mushy type, Cassy!"

"This is no laughing matter, Balthazar. I am the leader of the Garrison, and it is my responsibility to speak to the righteous man."

"Look, all you're going to do is scare the hell out of our would-be savior. I can try to teach you how to modulate your pretty voice, Cassy, but like I said, you should consider taking a vessel. Everyone is getting into it these days, you have to keep up with the latest trends!"

"I won’t take a vessel. And that is final."

I take one last look at the righteous man who is trying to get a vehicle to start.

I have to handle my army and come up with a strategy to keep the seals secure. And I have a lot of overdue work. With the situation as it is for Humanity, I have many responsibilities to assume. I will talk to Dean later.

* * *

"To summarize what you just said, Balthazar, while we were gone, Sam Winchester, the righteous man's brother, started drinking demon blood. He has grown powers and is actively consorting with a demon."

"If by _actively consorting_ you mean _performing the kamasutra everywhere_, then yes, Cassy, very well summarized."

"Disgusting," Uriel snorts.

"Castiel, couldn't we submit a request to the chain of command to have him eliminated?" Htmorda suggests. "With such a behavior, this Human is a walking blasphemy."

I motion to Balthazar to sit down. He has finished his verbal report on everything that has happened in our absence, and while the fate of these infected children is something that has always somewhat intrigued me, I am more interested in Sam Winchester's case.

"No," I tell Htmorda. "Sam Winchester is a descendant of Cain, and as such, he is valuable. Besides, it was to bring him back to life that Dean went to Hell. We need his collaboration to defeat Lucifer. Killing his brother would be the most effective way to make him see us as the enemy. Should the chain of command deem him dangerous, we'll be given orders. Until then, we have more important things to do. Rachel, did you come up with a strategy to protect the seals?"

Rachel stands up eagerly and starts drawing glowing symbols and plans in the air with his Grace, submitting his detailed plan. I am watching, standing still and unblinking, but my mind is away.

When I gripped Dean Winchester's soul and pulled him out of Hell, some of the strongest memories and emotions of his short life poured into my holy spirit. And above it all, beyond the pain, suffering, terror and hatred, I felt how deeply attached he is to his younger brother. I have rarely witnessed such an intense bond between siblings, and it awakens inside me some kind of longing, painful yet compelling. The righteous man would endure a thousand deaths to ensure his brother's safety and happiness. Sam Winchester, the demon-blooded boy who's heading down a dangerous path and building powers never before seen in a Human...

While Dean Winchester is truly an extraordinary Human being and the key to salvation for Humanity, his brother is just as – if not more – fascinating. I hope I will get the opportunity to meet him.

"Castiel? What do you think?"

Rachel's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. Hester and Levanael are staring at me worriedly. I haven't heard a word of what they were saying.

The new room we have been assigned - room 1050 - is large enough to hold my entire army, and is currently deafeningly silent. All eyes are on me.

"Oh don't mind him, he's just pining for his Human," Balthazar jokes.

Maybe I should send him to rehabilitation...

Hester’s Grace grows dimmer, while Rachel remains unfazed and repeats patiently: "I was suggesting we divide the Garrison into two sections: one to randomly protect the seals in order to catch the demons by surprise, and another to stand ready to intervene and lead punitive expeditions to Hell. For this, it would be essential to appoint lieutenants, as it is often done in other divisions and..."

** _I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle._ **

There is a voice ringing clearly in my head. A voice that doesn't speak Enochian. A human voice - a female one, more precisely. I stiffen and slowly get up as I feel an invisible grip around my Grace, a force drawing me to Earth and that I try to push back, my four hands clutching the desk.

Am I being _summoned?_

** _I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle._ **

"Castiel? What’s going on?"

Hester's face, as though chiseled out of ice, appears right in front of me, his pale grey eyes filled with concern. I can feel his hand gently touching my shoulder.

"An invocation... Some psychic is trying to drag me down to Earth..."

I close my eyes, and in one unpleasant flash, I catch a glimpse through thick fog of human figures holding hands, sitting around a round table. A woman, a man, and... the righteous man and his demon-blooded brother.

** _I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle._ **

Oh no.

The ritual goes on, wrapping itself more tightly around my Grace. If the invocation succeeds, I will appear before them in my true form, and they will all be seriously injured and blinded by my appearance. I nervously flick Hester's hand off my shoulder with my wing.

"So now hairless monkeys start whistling for us like we're their dogs?" Uriel snarls. "Who do they think they are? You should teach them a lesson, Castiel."

"Sam and Dean Winchester are with her," I say louder.

"The horny monkey who drinks demon blood? Even better!"

** _I invoke, conjure, and command…_ **

I ignore Uriel and speak to the medium in a threatening, low voice, whispering not to hurt her. I have to make her stop.

** _"M_****_y name is_ ** ** _ Castiel. Cease your invocation immediately or you will regret it."_ **

** _Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy._ **

"This is getting ridiculous," Htmorda says grumpily. "Humans interrupting a meeting in Heaven... Well, we've seen it all!"

"I don't know whether to be grateful or outraged," Zedekiel muses. "At least I’m not so bored anymore."

** _I conjure and command you, show me your face!_ **

_**"S****top this at once****!"**_ I hiss at the woman.

** _I conjure and command you, show me your face!_ **

I can feel my Grace shivering at the command, and there is a crack in reality right in front of my face beginning to form.

"Looks like the female monkey just won't quit!" Uriel snickers.

** _I conjure and command you, show me your face!_ **

My two hundred new soldiers are staring at me in bewilderment, and some are whispering to each other. One of them is covering his face with his wing to conceal his growing hilarity.

"How much longer is this bullshit going to last? We've got work to do!" groans Rzionr Nrzfm with an irritated gesture.

"Oh, hardly." Balthazar is smoothing down his wing. "Nothing much to worry about, just an upcoming Apocalypse."

** _I conjure and command you, show me your face!_ **

The crack is widening before my eyes.

"Balthazar. She's trying to get a look at my face. Is there anything we can do to counter an invocation?"

** _I conjure and command you, show me your face!_ **

"Nope. Any Human with the correct ingredients and knowledge can invoke you if they know your name or hold an element of your Grace. There’s nothing we can do."

"Oh come on, just give her what she’s asking for!" Uriel sneers.

** _Show me your face NOW_** **_!_ **

The crack in reality widens all of a sudden. A tiny human face appears, and her scream echoes across the meeting room as her eyes burst into flames like torches and melt into their sockets.

Then, the gap collapses on itself and shuts down, silence falls again and the grip on my Grace is gone.

"Oops?" says Balthazar in a false show of sympathy.

As for Uriel, he explodes with thunderous laughter, repeatedly banging the table with his fist and chortling, joined by some of the new soldiers and Zedekiel who struggles to contain his hilarity as best he can - which is very poorly. Miz turns his head, his wings shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh God Almighty," Uriel manages to hiss between chortles. "I haven't laughed this hard since the goat and the Babel Tower!"

Squaring my shoulders, I send a glowering look at my hysterically laughing army. There's nothing remotely amusing about this situation. Quite the contrary, it could jeopardize my first contact with Dean. And now I'm going to have to write up a formal incident report.

"Silence, soldiers! Next one who laughs will go straight to rehabilitation."

Everybody shut up instantly. Except for one of the new soldiers, who keeps on laughing hard behind his shaking wing, and his uncontrollable laughter echoes in the deadly silence.

"Seize him," I order coldly, "and send him to rehabilitation."

Three soldiers grab that rude Angel - who is still laughing hysterically - and take him away.

* * *

Sam Winchester, the demon blooded Human, drives away in his vehicle. Finally.

It's not so easy to get Dean alone long enough to talk to him privately. The hotel is bathed in the darkness of the night and every soul inside is asleep. The righteous man is sleeping on a bed, and I kneel down to bring my face as close as I can to the building. I know that this time I'm going to get it right. I must seize this quiet moment while my soldiers are cleansing the demonic vermin lurking in this city – I gave the order myself in order to ensure the righteous man's safety.

**_"Dean Winchester..."_** I whisper softly to wake him up, focusing my voice solely into his room.

And once again I guess I may have been speaking too low, since only the electronics seem to detect the sound of my voice. I squint and raise my voice very slightly. I can't make the mistake I made the first time. I have to keep my voice down.

** _"Dean, wake up. _ ** ** _I need to talk to you, it’s _ ** ** _important."_ **

Dean opens his eyes and takes a look around, then gets up and lets his book slide from his knees. Finally, my words are reaching him.

Why is he grabbing his firearm, though?

** _"_****_Do not be afraid_****_, Dean. _ ** ** _I am an Angel of the Lord, and God sent me to_****_..."_ **

Now he's pointing his weapon at the door. This is getting frustrating.

** _"No, _ ** ** _I’m not behind the door. I'm standing over the building._****_"_ **

But still he keeps staring at the door stubbornly. I guess he can't hear me after all. I should raise my voice a little.

** _"Dean, _ ** ** _can you hear me_****_? M_****_y name is Cast_****_iel. _ ** ** _I am an Angel of the_****_..."_ **

And like the first time, the righteous man winces and covers his ears, which is quite annoying. How am I supposed to be heard if he keeps covering his ears every time I try to talk to him?

** _"No, _ ** ** _listen to me_****_! You have been chosen for a very important reason!"_ **

The mirror is cracking above his head.

_**"Dean!"**_ I insist, raising my voice again.

This time, the windows and the mirror explode at the sound of my voice, and I fall silent as I move my head back. Dean is lying on the floor, apparently in pain.

Why is it so difficult? Why can't I do it, even though Anna had no problem talking to Yael, and several of my soldiers have spoken to vessels without anything like this happening? And Dean is a descendant of Cain!

I don’t understand.

I rise up when a Human bursts into the room to help Dean.

There's only one thing left for me to do.

_**"Balthazar,"**_ I say, focusing to contact my subordinate. _**"****I need a vessel****. ****Right now****."**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (sunday, may 24th)
> 
> _"I worked hard on this bloodline, you know, to build you a vessel perfectly fitted for your Grace. And she is your true vessel, not Jimmy. Because, you see, I've always thought of you rather as a woman, for some reason. You'd make a cute little sister."_
> 
> **[Author's note: So, I'm finally running out of translated chapters. Also, they're getting longer and thus harder to translate. I'll do my best to keep updating regularly, but I'm afraid I won't be able to update every sunday anymore. Sorry! If you really can't wait to read what comes next, feel free to check out the french version, I know there are a few readers out there using Google Translate to read it. It's not ideal, but heh ;p]**


	25. Jimmy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Castiel is promoted to Garrison General to replace Anna, who has ripped off her own Grace. Years later, he is ordered to go to Hell to rescue the righteous man's soul, which is the first seal demons must break in order to free Lucifer and start the Apocalypse. After forty years of searching, they save him, but too late. Dean Winchester is now the only one who can stop Lucifer. Castiel attempts several times to talk to him, but his voice seems to harm him. He finally decides to take a vessel as Balthazar advised him...
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episodes 1 & 20**.

"Do you really think I can get you a vessel with one snap of my fingers? This type of Humans is rare and there is a waiting list as long as my arm based on priorities and rank. There's a procedure to follow, Castiel. Forms to fill out, training to attend, authorizations to obtain. It's not something you can decide overnight. You should have planned ahead."

Sitting at his desk with his hands folded, Zachariah is staring at me in a patronizing way.

"I didn't think I would need it, but it turns out to be the only way for me to make contact with Dean Winchester. Due to the recent incident I reported, he knows my name, and is likely to summon me at any time. Without a vessel to contain me, I might cause him serious injury."

"Oh really? And how exactly is any of this my problem? Do I look like I can pop you one of these on the spot? I can't believe it, it's like everyone assumes I have the answer to everything, and they keep showing up in my office all day long with puppy eyes!"

Standing at my side, Balthazar interrupts somewhat obsequiously:

"Actually I already have a bloodline arranged for my beloved General, and I have the paperwork all covered. As for the training, I can provide it to him in the process."

Zachariah sizes Balthazar up, shards of ice in his dark blue eyes glistening briefly. Suddenly he rises from his chair to walk around the desk.

"Come on, I was just messing with you! Of course we can work something out, that's the whole point of having connections high up, right?"

He steps between us and pats us on the back with his wings in a familiar way that lacks the intimacy I used to share with my brethren before I became their superior.

"It's a good thing you're taking the initiative to put on a meat suit, Castiel. In a few days, there will be a directive stating that all Angels and Cherubs in the field must have one attributed to them - this will be strongly recommended for paper-pushers as well. And it will be strictly forbidden to walk the Earth without a vessel."

"That’s right," says Balthazar. "Early bird gets the worm, late bird gets what's left!"

Zachariah folds up his wings and leans against his desk.

"Oh, and don't thank me, you'll just owe me a favor someday. And that, Castiel, is called networking. Always have a few top brass up your sleeve. Learn that lesson."

"This is not all" I tell him. "We also need a time travel derogation."

Zachariah opens his eyes wide and throws up his arms in a somewhat fatalistic way.

"Why don't you take my job too while you're at it, Castiel?"

"No thank you. I just want the derogation."

Zachariah blinks and stares at me as though unsure if he should be laughing or get angry. Balthazar lets out an obviously forced, stilted laugh while gently nudging me in the back with his wing.

"Ha ha! Erm. Look, Zachy, in order for the Human to let Cas into his body, he must first have gained his trust, and for that to happen, it's not lubricant we need, but time. And we don't have that kind of time _now_."

Zachariah gives us a hard stare before blurting out a rusty chuckle.

"You sure are a lot of fun in the Garrison! Fine, let's get you an exemption. I'll pass this on directly to the administration as a one-time exception."

He stares at us for a moment.

"What now? Shall we hold hands and sing psalms together? Get out of my way, I've got work to do!"

* * *

My claws hit the ground hard and I only manage to stabilize myself with one hand. Were I not invisible and therefore partially incorporated into an ephemeral alternative reality, I would undoubtedly have destroyed this peaceful neighborhood plunged into the night. Houses all built on the same model line up before my eyes, blurred outlines, washed out colors. My Grace is slowly moving inside of me, as though drained of its energy, so I flex my hands as I stand up to make it flow better.

I meet Balthazar's teasing gaze, and my vision gradually returns to normal, painting the world in deep blue shades under the moon.

"Well well, O great General, one little trip back in time and you're kicking the bucket? We've only gone back two months."

"I had some trouble balancing my energy."

I have never traveled back in time before in my entire life. And while I know how to do it in theory, like any Angel of my rank, I've never had to actually practice it before. It's unsettling. And to think that at this exact moment in the timeline, I am in Hell on a wild-goose chase while the righteous man is breaking the first seal... If I had known then what I know now...

"Aww, you poor thing. Do you want me to carry you? We're about to take a dozen leaps in time to gain your meat suit's trust, and I wouldn't want you to die on me. Surely they won't like it upstairs and they will probably say it's my fault again - oddly enough, that's what the hierarchy assumes every time there's something fishy."

Now that’s a bit offensive.

"I'm the General of the Garrison, Balthazar. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, don't take it the wrong way, Cassy! I would have carried you gently and reverently, like a newlywed bride."

It’s probably better to just ignore him. More often than not, my reactions merely embolden his insolence, and I've known Balthazar long enough to understand that there is no better way of dealing with him than to remain impassive.

So I avert my eyes and scan the houses lined up next to each other at my feet. They all have the same garden plot with a few trees and a parked car.

"Where is the vessel?"

"Sleeping in front of a dumb TV show, like any other sane male of his age and social background."

I follow Balthazar's direction with my eyes, and kneel to watch a male Human sitting alone in his living room. There is nothing exceptional about him on the surface, and like Htmorda, I never really understood what is supposed to tell apart a beautiful Human from an ugly one. They all are beautiful to me, for they are Father's masterpieces, in a way that we can never be.

So this is what Dean Winchester will see when he lays his eyes on me. It's disappointing that I can't appear to him in my true form, just like Camael did for Cain. I need to stay focused on acquiring my vessel. I can see his wife and daughter are fast asleep upstairs.

"He is alone. This is a good opportunity. I will make contact."

"Try to talk on the right wavelength this time."

"What is his name?"

"Jimmy Novak."

I squint and focus to let a faint trickle of voice slide into the physical reality, solely on the confined space of the room in which the vessel is located.

_**"Jimmy, wake up**,"_ I whisper softly.

And just like it happened with the righteous man, the only thing responding to my voice is the television: the image on the screen gets scrambled. Well, at least it woke Jimmy up.

"You're doing it again, Cas! You're back on the dog wave frequency. When the day comes a prophecy predicts that a golden retriever will save the world, you'll be the first on the list to make contact. Why don't you modulate your voice a notch lower?"

** _"Jimmy, _ ** ** _I am an Angel of the Lord_****_. _ ** ** _God chose you for_****_..."_ **

The vessel clutches his skull with both hands and drops to his knees with a scream. Then collapses on the ground in convulsions. Balthazar stops me with one hand on my shoulder, giving me a slightly judgmental look.

"Dean didn't have that kind of reaction," I said, getting defensive.

"That's because Dean isn't epileptic like Jimmy is."

"Oh." I get up stiffly, disheartened and confused. "Why can't I talk to them, Balthazar? Is there a problem with Dean? Is it because of his time in Hell? And Jimmy, is he...?"

Balthazar stands up as well and gazes at me with fond pity.

"No, Cassy, there's nothing wrong with them. You're just terrible at this, that's all."

I glare at him and he raises his arms in a defensive manner.

"Hey! No one can be good at everything! True, I am exceptionally talented - also blessed with ravishing charisma - but I would be unable to manipulate the human mind as you do so brilliantly."

I take a look down again at Jimmy who scrambles back to his feet, shaking all over.

"How am I meant to interact with my vessel if he can't hear my voice?"

Without a vessel, I won't be able to talk to Dean, nor will I fulfill Heaven's new duties. This is most inconvenient.

Balthazar wraps me under his wing like a silken cocoon.

"Just trust your old brother. Have I ever let you down, hm? You're getting into this hot piece of meat, I'm making this personal. I have an idea…"

* * *

The sun is still high in the sky when the vehicle parks in front of the house and Jimmy comes out with a paper bag in his hand. The Human has asked for sick leave after his seizure, and looks quite preoccupied as he walks into the empty house and drops his medication on the living room table. Then he sinks into the armchair with a weary sigh, grasping his skull in his hands.

"Now is the time. Take advantage of the wifey being out on grocery shopping..."

I nod and, one knee down, I lean over to lower my face over the roof - the house itself is tiny, one of my eyes is almost twice its size.

I concentrate on the television's silent screen facing Jimmy.

_ **"Jimmy..."** _ I whisper in a barely audible breath.

The television screen flickers and sizzles for a moment, successfully carrying my voice, and then stabilizes, projecting a bluish light into the room. Balthazar was right. It’s working. Through electronic devices, my voice's tonality is filtered and therefore tolerable for the vessel's ears. Jimmy looks up with a frightened gasp, then sighs and glares at the television.

"Dysfunctioning again? Unbelievable, we bought it a couple months ago... Guess I'll have to take it back to the store. Just perfect."

He gets up and switches the device off before he wearily rubs his eyes. And reopens them wide when the screen immediately switches back on.

** _"The television is working fine, Jimmy. I am only using it to talk to you."_ **

"You could've done better with your introduction, Cas. Humans need deeper lines to be impressed. But I leave it to you! You're the boss after all!"

Jimmy is gaping at the screen.

"I really need to get some sleep," he mumbles, reaching out with a shaking hand to turn the television off.

This time, I don't let the device go off. No matter how many times Jimmy pushes the button, the screen remains on.

_ **"****You have to listen****, Jimmy. ** **You have been chosen****."** _

"Is that another one of Roger's jokes?" Jimmy laughs forcefully. "Ha ha good one, Roger, I almost fell for it! Is that a recording?"

** _"I am not Roger. My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord."_ **

Jimmy's hand stills and he stares wide-eyed at the screen. Then he frowns in outrage.

"No! That's going too far. Don't you dare use the Lord's name for some stupid joke!"

He bends over and rips out from the socket the plug that supplies the television with electricity. The screen stays on.

** _"_****_This is not a joke_****_, Jimmy. _ ** ** _Go_****_d has chosen you for an im_****_portant purpose._****_"_ **

Gawking, the Human drops down sitting on the floor, and frantically scrambles backwards, eyes riveted on the screen until his back hits the couch.

"Oh my God..." he chokes.

** _"No: Castiel. But it is indeed He who sent me."_ **

Is my name that hard to memorize?

There are so many emotions flashing across his face. Confusion. Fear. Wonder.

"Castiel." He gulps. "Is this real? God sent you? I... It's such an honor, I..."

He gets to his knees and reverently crosses himself, whispering a prayer.

"Playtime’s over, Cassy! The missus is back!"

Indeed, there is a door slamming, and I slowly stand up again. In the house, the television immediately turns off. The blond woman pauses in the doorway, her arms full of groceries, blinking in surprise.

"What are you doing on the floor?"

Jimmy stares at the black screen as though coming out of a dream, then turns to face her, running his hand through his hair in obvious confusion.

"Nothing, Amelia, I... I was praying."

"… in front of the television?"

"It worked," I tell Balthazar. "I have to talk to him again to persuade him to say yes."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm there, but that's not how it works! And believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Best strategy is to do some talking, a few small miracles to blow their minds, nudge them until they're begging to help us. We're going to take a little leap in time, and come back in three days, when he's ready."

* * *

I had thought that time travel would get easier eventually, but I was wrong. I have once again consumed too much energy in the process, and my Grace is unpleasantly numb when I reach my destination in the timeline. I grab my brother's shoulder to steady myself.

"It would be better for you to spare your energy for the moment you'll transfer into your vessel, and for the many battles to come. You still don't want my help? Once you are in possession of your vessel, time travel should no longer be a problem for you."

He does make a point, so I nod in agreement, my eyes riveted to the house. Jimmy is sitting at the kitchen table. He is reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee while his wife slips the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

"I'm taking Claire to her piano lesson, and then we'll have lunch at Roger's, okay?"

"I know, Ames, you've told me three times already," says Jimmy with a soft smile.

She takes the car keys and her daughter's hand, then walks out of the house, giving me the opportunity to speak to my vessel.

"You know, it should have been her. The vessel I intended for you."

The vehicle starts up and drives off to the road.

"Who, Amelia?"

"What? Of course not! You're hurting my feelings. No, I'm talking about the girl: Claire! I worked hard on this bloodline, you know, to build you a vessel perfectly fitted for your Grace. And she is your true vessel, not Jimmy. Because, you see, I've always thought of you more as a woman, for some reason. You'd make a cute little sister. This Apocalypse is happening just a couple years too soon, she's still a bit young. But anyway, Jimmy will have to do in the meanwhile, and once this whole mess is over, assuming Humanity hasn't been wiped out, then you can try her on. You'll see, it will be something else: power, efficiency, speed, and so on. Besides, I guarantee you that once she's grown up, she'll be a hottie."

"So Jimmy isn't adapted to my Grace?"

"Yes, of course he is. Just like the vessels I provide for our brothers are adequate and functional. Just think of them as cheap ready-to-wear, whereas Claire is tailor-made. Classy, high fashion. You see what I mean?"

"Not really. But why didn't the other Angels get the... tailor-made vessels too?"

"Because they're usually just for Archangels. To get them for every other Angels, it would be like casting pearls before swine."

I have no idea what swine have to do with any of this but I’d rather not ask.

"Then why did you make me one, Balthazar?"

My brother chuckles, patting me on the head with his wing.

"Isn’t it obvious, Cassy? Has it not occurred to you over the past millennia that I like you? It's a gift, of course!"

"Oh."

Now that’s embarrassing. What am I supposed to say? Should I do something? Touch him? Thank him?

I set my eyes on him, clenching my fists resolutely.

"… I... like you too, Baltha..."

"AH! Stop! Let me stop you right now before it gets sappy, because this sounds like a romantic comedy where we're about to start singing. Now, please do something with that vessel of yours!"

He doesn't have to tell me twice. That was awkward.

Jimmy finished his coffee and dropped the cup in the sink. I crouch down and quietly whisper my voice into the closest electronic device to him.

** _"Jimmy... _ ** ** _Can you hear me_****_?"_ **

I can hear Balthazar, behind me, dramatically smacking his forehead.

The man stops washing his cup and turns off the tap, staring at the device. He holds his breath and bends over as though to hear better.

"… Castiel?"

**_"_****_That’s my name._** **_Do you believe in God_****_, Jimmy?"_**

Jimmy blinks and lets out a bewildered laugh.

"My microwave is asking me if I believe in God..."

"Alright, then. I think it's time to blow his mind," says Balthazar as he kneels down at my side.

He places a finger above the house and makes a small movement. Every item in the kitchen suddenly starts floating before Jimmy's astonished eyes. He takes a step backwards, frantically crossing himself.

"Oh Jesus Mary Joseph..." he babbles and drops to his knees.

_**"****Do you believe in God****, Jimmy?"**_ I ask louder.

"I do! Of course I do! But... I don’t understand... why me? I'm only an ordinary employee, there's nothing special about me... What does He want from me?"

** _"_****_You are special_****_. _ ** ** _It’s in your blood_****_."_ **

The floating things slowly fall back down to their original position.

"Don't give him too much information, Cas. He doesn't need to know that. Now, we'll let him ponder on that for a week. Hold on to me!"

One last glance at Jimmy who keeps talking to the microwave, and I lay my hand on my brother's shoulder, who effortlessly drags us through the time flow.

* * *

"Forgive me for insisting, Castiel, but... you never answered last time: what do I have to do? What do you want from me?"

** _"You'll find out when the time comes, Jimmy. It is God's will."_ **

"Yes, of course. I understand. It isn’t my place to question God’s will. But..."

** _"_** ** _Have faith_ ** **_, Jimmy. God will reward you for your devotion."_ **

"I won't fail you. I'll prove my faith to you, and..."

"Hey, Novak, you losing it? You're talking to your computer, now?"

My future vessel, whose nose was almost touching the screen, sits up straight on his desk, stammering an explanation to his co-worker who just came back from his break with a cup of coffee in his hand.

* * *

"How can I be sure that this is not all just in my head? I'm epileptic, and I've had hallucinations during my seizures in the past... What if I'm imagining everything?"

Leaning over his car radio like it would be easier for me to hear him, Jimmy turns at a street corner.

** _"Are you doubting God and His Angels?"_ **

"I’m not. It's only my body, my brain, that I'm doubting. You've been talking to me for almost two months now, I've heard you dozens of times and you've shown me miracles, but... I'm the only one who's seen them. I don't know if I can trust my sight and hearing, given my condition..."

_ **"Would a miracle that your whole town would witness reassure you?**_ **_**"** _ **

"I.. Well, yes. But I don't want to seem like I'm..."

Biting his lip, he stops at a red light.

** _"Open your eyes and praise the Lord, Jimmy, for snow is about to fall."_ **

"In the middle of September?" he asks, stunned. "With this kind of heat?"

I look up at the sky, concentrating to gather water-laden clouds just above the city, while the temperature suddenly drops. A few snowflakes start twirling as they fall, soon to be followed by many more.

Jimmy opens his car door and comes out to gaze up at the sky in awe as snow quietly falls and wraps the city in a white coat.

"It’s a miracle..." he breathes out, and white mist comes out of his mouth in ephemeral swirls.

"I think he’s almost ready," says Balthazar. "That's good, considering we're almost back to our original point in time."

* * *

** _"_****_Do it to prove your faith_****_. _ ** ** _If you have faith, you won’t be burned_****_."_ **

Jimmy glances at his boiling pot and nods. I focus to shield his arms from any effects of heat or pain as he steps purposefully towards the pot. Then, without batting an eyelid, he plunges his hand into the boiling water, holding his breath.

"Aaand... wifey's entrance in 3, 2, 1..."

"What the hell are you doing!?" yells Amelia as she walks into the kitchen.

I get up and look at Balthazar.

"What now, Balthazar? In a few hours, we'll be back in the present, and I need to get into my vessel to talk to Dean."

"Now, we wait. The missus is going to make him want to prove himself, and little Jimmy will soon be begging us to use him. Works every time. Nothing like denigration from family and friends to make them really eager to be our glorified tools. I myself have a Mormon I'm grooming right now, just for me. This guy's more stuck-up than an old nun even though he has a perfect physique, what a waste. Blond hair, beautiful blue eyes and a body to be damned. You should see it, it's hilarious: I blabbed out a strict and intolerant religious speech to seduce him. You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to enjoy myself once I get in him, keeping him fully conscious and..."

I've stopped listening to him already, watching from above as Jimmy tries to convince his wife of my existence. Hours pass, bringing us closer to the present. Soon, the sun is melting into the skyline, casting its last warm pink rays on the snow-covered roofs of the houses.

And just when Jimmy is putting on a coat to step out of the house, I can feel a force reaching for my Grace and trying to draw it again.

"I’m being summoned again," I say with a shiver of anticipation. "I don't have much time left."

I have no other choice but to go: the invocation is powerful, tied directly to my name. The name I was given at my creation, as part of my very essence.

Jimmy closes the door behind him and walks down the front alley. Snowflakes swirl around him and cling to his brown hair.

"Just about time. I have a feeling your vessel is ready for the grand leap. Be prepared to talk to him. This time, directly."

"Without electronic devices?"

"Yes, it will make the transfer easier. Exceptionally, I will help you to modulate your voice by adjusting your Grace's flow with mine - even if it's tedious. I have been watching you and I think your voice's wavelengths are too wide, and I can regulate them for you. Leave the technical triviality to me, you just have to get him to say _yes_."

The Human looks up to the sky where he can't see us. He seems distraught and nervous, and his cheeks are rosy from the sharp cold.

"So, I want to help you. I'm about to lose my family here if you don't tell me how . . . Please, Castiel, just talk to me. What do you want from me?"

"Showtime, Cassy! Show him a fraction of your pretty face while you're at it. He'll be too dazzled to see the details, but that should impress him."

I crouch and bend over the tiny Human. Even though I have seen on many occasions my brothers invest vessels, I still find it hard to believe that I can be contained in such a small and weak being. So different from me. I feel my Grace swirling with haste and apprehension as I slide my voice and part of my face into physical reality. Balthazar's fingers are resting on my shoulder, his Grace seeping into mine to make my voice flow smoothly.

** _"God chose you to assist us in a divine mission of the highest importance. And for this, I need to invest your body to operate on Earth. Once God's Will has been achieved, your body will be returned to you and you will be rewarded. Your role is critical."_ **

"Yes, I understand. Promise my family will be okay and I'll do it."

I vividly remember the promise Anna made to Yaël. A promise is a sacred commitment, and a promise made by an Angel implicates all of Heaven.

** _"Your family will be safe until you get back, Jimmy. I promise you that. To show your agreement, you have to say ‘yes’."_ **

"Then... _yes_."

"Ready to take the plunge?" says Balthazar. "Remember what I told everyone else: focus on the blood flowing in his veins and _let go_."

I squint and stare into Jimmy's eyes. No Human has looked me in the eyes since Cain, and my Grace is stirring oddly. Heartbeat pulsating in harmony with it. Jimmy's heartbeat. I hear and feel blood rushing through veins, arteries, being pumped by the heart like a torrent of life and power.

Time seems to freeze as I tumble into these blue eyes invading my vision. My body dissolves, my wings melt behind my back, and suddenly I can't see or hear anything. There is nothing except the sensation of falling into the void.

* * *

Deep breath. Air rushing into lungs.

Images tearing the veil of darkness, so vivid, the infinity of the night sky spills out like a river of stars. Its dark icy blue glistens with snowflakes swirling in the autumn breeze. New sensations overflow me, searing in intensity.

_Organi__c_.

The wind like feathers in my hair and on my face.

A cold sensation on my skin and the brush of clothes covering it.

The wistful echo of a dog barking over the lonely whisper of the night.

My senses are overloaded, which makes my Grace simmer, condensed and fluid as it flows through the network of veins and arteries. Slowly I lower my eyes - only two of them now - and fold back my wings. Although immaterial, I can feel their weight as I did in my true form.

There are houses surrounding me on either side, blocking out the horizon. The same constructions that seemed so tiny to me a moment ago are now gigantic and tower over me like mountains would in my true form. Amazed by the most vivid sensations I have ever experienced in my entire life, I lift a hand close to my face. A single hand, made of bones covered with flesh, muscles, joints, tendons, skin, nails. Each finger responding perfectly to my will.

Now I understand what Anna meant when she invested Yaël's body. Having only two arms is unsettling. But in this body, product of a slow evolution and Father's masterpiece, it seems oddly natural.

I feel lighter and stronger than ever.

"Daddy?"

A clear voice rises behind me, and I gaze one last time at the ethereal sight of the night sky before turning around. Claire, the vessel Balthazar intended for me, is standing there. The soul trapped in my borrowed body grows agitated at the sound of this voice - the voice of my perfect vessel that I will surely invest someday. I tilt my head to the side, struck by the surreal vision of a Human nearly reaching my height. All my life, I have looked down to watch tiny beings crawling on the ground, and never before have I grasped the nuanced range of feelings that their eyes, their faces, their body language can convey. If I look closely, I can even make out each of her blond eyelashes and the texture of her velvety skin. But even more surprisingly...

** _Balthazar, why can't I see her soul?_ **

High above the house towers Balthazar's radiant figure, gigantic and invisible to human eyes. His Grace flows like a waterfall of liquid light, and his face is so high, so far away, that I barely catch him winking at me.

** _"Oh. _ ** ** _Yes_****_. I should have explained that. A vessel has many advantages, but there are also some limitations. Not being able to see souls is one of them, as is the inside and outside maintenance. Organic is so messy..."_ **

This is all very interesting, but I have no time to waste here - I still feel, as if linked by an invisible string to my Grace, the summoning that draws me in and grows stronger with every passing second.

Even so, I think I should inform the child. To let her believe that I am her father only because I look like him would be dishonest.

"I am not your father."

** _"Ugh. Just like I suspected, this body doesn't quite fit your Grace, Cassy. The voice comes out distorted. _ ** ** _Your poor cont_****_rol shows through your ves_****_sel._ ** ** _ I suppose it does have a certain manly charm. Such a shame, when your real voice is so pretty... Anyway! Why don't we pay your righteous man a visit in your brand-new meat suit?"_ **

He’s right. I don't have time to waste chatting with my future _tailored_ vessel. The invocation will most certainly lead me to Dean Winchester - he has already proven that he has resources and knowledge unusual for a mortal.

I take a step forward and walk down the street, the fresh layer of snow on the ground crunching under my shoes. I need to get out of Claire's sight before I fly away.

** _"_****_You’re not coming with me_****_, Balthazar. _ ** ** _I want to talk to Dean alone_****_."_ **

** _"_** ** _But_ ** **_..."_ **

_**"****You’ve got work to do in Heaven****,"**_ I cut him off in a final tone of voice.**_**"**_****_You need to invest your own vessel and equip the entire Garrison. In the process, you will assign a soldier to protect this family as Guardian._ **_**That’s an order****."**_

** _"Well, since you asked so nicely..."_ **

I wrap Jimmy's soul with my Grace to shut out his feelings and memories until nothing filters through, and I spread my wings as I turn the corner. A simple flap is enough to launch me in the blink of an eye to my destination.

I'm standing in front of a barn door. This is where the summoning comes from, and I can distinctly hear the righteous man's voice through the walls.

_"You sure you did the ritual right?_"

Relieved to find out that my hearing is as good, if not better, than in my true form, I walk up to the wooden doors and raise a hand to open them.

_"Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"_

I let my hand fall back down.

No. For my first contact with the righteous man, I should follow Balthazar's advice – he is the expert after all. I carried Dean's bare soul in my hand, I rebuilt his body. I saw his deepest memories, and beneath the love he feels for his brother, beneath hatred, courage, anger and terror, I felt a gaping void inside of him that he strives to fill at all costs. A void created by fatalism and a complete lack of faith.

Balthazar is right. Humans require proof, miracles, to be impressed. Dean more than anyone else. I look up at the sky dimmed by the city's lights and pollution, and I gather thick clouds charged with electricity. Then I unleash gusts of wind to shake the barn's tin roof. I lower my head again to watch the doors while the noise grows stronger. A few seconds should be enough to make an impression.

_"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind."_

The righteous man's voice sounds a little tense, but certainly not impressed. Obviously that wasn't enough. I focus on making every light in the vicinity burst out, and I slowly step forward as the wooden doors open wide before me with a sinister creaking sound. The shattered light bulbs are crackling and spraying sparks in the dark. The barn's inside is covered with protection or trapping markings, some of them intended for demons, pagan gods, or the Mother of All's creatures.

And right in the middle of this patchwork of sigils, there stands the righteous man, next to the bearded Human who came in to help him when I tried to talk to Dean in the hotel. Both are pointing guns at me, and at the very instant I shut off the electricity to stop the spark explosions, they start firing. I wrap my Grace tighter around Jimmy's soul to protect him from the pain he might feel but to which I am insensitive, and I keep on walking towards them. The bullets lodged in my vessel's flesh are made of silver. In two thousand years, hunters have made so much progress and their knowledge of the Mother's children's weak points is quite impressive. Amusingly enough, a few centuries earlier they barely had figured out how to get rid of vampires and ghouls.

When I reach them, I keep my eyes set on the righteous man who is holding a dagger behind his back. He glares at me with defiance and disbelief. Any other Human would probably have dropped to their knees or been overcome with fear. But Dean is no ordinary Human, and his gaze doesn't waver. He acts like a soldier, cold-bloodedly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

My reply does not seem to inspire the slightest glimmer of gratitude in him, even though my soldiers and I fought tirelessly for forty years to rescue him.

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

I can foresee his gesture before he even initiates it, but I let him. There is something comical about a Human attacking an Angel with a blade meant to kill demons, but I can't help thinking back of Cain setting my hands ablaze with fiery flames. One dominant character trait of Cain's lineage is this strong will, this stubbornness when faced with a desperate situation. The blade - forged by Lucifer's first demons - strikes straight into my vessel's heart, bringing its beats to an abrupt halt. But my Grace keeps the blood flowing unhindered.

Finally, astonishment floods into Dean's eyes as he recoils in disbelief. I believe I can see the first signs of fear in his expression. Perfect. I glance down at the blade and pull it out. It falls to the ground with a rattling sound in the silence. Impressing a Human should not fill me with such pride, but Dean is special. There are very few beings who would dare to defy an Angel. The righteous man is undoubtedly the Human of the prophecy. The one who broke, but also the one who will save Humanity. He has the strength of character. And he owes his resurrection and redemption to me, even if he can't remember it. Without me he would have become just another demon and Humanity would be doomed to extinction.

Dean's eyes shift behind me, and I know that kind of look all too well. The look of a General ordering a soldier to attack. I quickly reach behind me and grab the iron bar that the bearded Human - whose name is Bobby, according to memories of Dean I've explored - has just tried to hit me with. Ludicrous. His presence is interfering with my mission. I need to speak to the righteous man, and to him alone. That's why, with just a touch on his forehead, I push him into a deep sleep and then turn to face the target of my mission again.

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

I have no time to waste contemplating my artwork - this being that I have saved and rebuilt. There is a war to be fought against Hell and an Apocalypse to counter. I must save my Father's creations and prove my Garrison's worth. Also my value as a commander.

Dean is staring at me wide eyed, then he looks down at the man on the ground.

"Bobby! Bobby, can you hear me?"

With a look filled with fear and wrath, he kneels down next to Bobby, shaking his shoulder and checking his pulse, holding his breath. I take a few steps towards the table and touch the items on it with my fingertips. There is a notebook detailing the gate of Hell, its locks, and markings to contain or repel demons. I flip through it briefly - despite being secluded in Heaven for the last centuries, the Garrison was aware that a Human had built protections around the Gate. I personally had written a report at Anna's request. The hierarchy wanted to know how this Samuel Colt came to hold such advanced knowledge about demons. My observations had led me to the conclusion that Samuel Colt was merely a hunter, and not the sharpest one. Unfortunately, I couldn't provide a valid explanation for his outstanding abilities.

The righteous man's glare is on me, hostile and wary.

"Your friend is alive," I say as I keep distractedly reading.

Even centuries later, having returned an incomplete report to the hierarchy leaves me with an unpleasant sense of failure.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean _what_ are you?"

I look up from the notebook. Dean is still kneeling on the ground and staring defiantly at me.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

The cold look in his eyes hardens, and he slowly rises to his feet.

"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

There's anger in his voice. His words, while offensive, don’t surprise me. Human lives are as short as their memory, and while two thousand years for us is only a brief span of our time, it was enough to turn into myth and legend what once was. And yet, some Humans still believe - like Jimmy - and their Faith shines in their souls like beacons. Dean is not one of them. This bottomless pit I felt inside of him was shaped by his life's tragic events, but also and especially by a severe lack of Faith. And Faith is something I consider essential to the success of his mission. After all, how could he possibly be doing my Father's work and saving all his kind from Lucifer if he doesn't _believe?_

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no Faith."

Once again, I do exactly as Balthazar advised, and concentrate on bringing lightning bolts out of the clouds gathered high in the sky, while spreading my wings behind my back for him to see their shadow. Judging by the subtle change in his eyes, it seems to be working. I clear out the clouds from the sky with and carefully fold my wings back.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

I look down, my Grace bubbling with annoyance in my vessel's veins. I _knew_ this incident would put my contact with the righteous man at risk. And it would never have happened if I'd listened to Balthazar and immediately agreed to take a vessel as he suggested.

But after all, it was her own recklessness that got this woman injured. I'm not to blame.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to Humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you _talking?_"

I gravely nod, trying to get used to having to look up at a Human, when for millions of years I have looked down to watch them as tiny dots at my feet. Inhabiting this body brings me a new way of perceiving my Father's masterpieces. And while I can't see his soul, watching emotions flash through his green eyes is quite similar.

"Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

This is mortifying. I've always been a skilled Garrison soldier, particularly talented when it comes to human memory - never before have I ever been bad at anything. And in just a few days time, I found myself severely lacking in voice modulation and time travel abilities. As the General of the Garrison, this is very embarrassing.

However, if Cain's bloodline were not so diminished, I would never have had this problem.

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

And if he could see what I really look like, Dean certainly wouldn't be staring at me with barely concealed insolence.

"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

I look down at my bullet-ridden vessel whose stabbed heart no longer beats. Numbed within my Grace, Jimmy's soul is gently pulsing, and I make it sink deeper into oblivion.

"This? This is a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?"

Dean is a hunter with a long history of battling demons who use innocent people as human shields. I can see why the very idea of possession would upset him. I myself never really endorsed the idea of vessels, ever since Adam and Eve's time. Hence my reluctance to take one. And the only reason I'm now walking the earth in this form is because I have no other choice, and the hierarchy wants us all to have one.

We’re nothing like demons, though. We need the vessel's consent, and not only do we use them to carry out God's Will, but we also return them intact to their lives once the mission is accomplished. So I quickly reassure him.

"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this. "

"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

What? After all the proof I showed him, he still doesn't believe me? Did he even listen to anything I said?

"I told you."

Didn't I make it clear enough that I'm an Angel? Why does he keep doubting against all evidence?

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from hell?"

Oh.

I understand now. His lack of Faith is again feeding his pessimism, made worse by his suffering in Hell. I come closer, my eyes fixed on his.

"Good things do happen, Dean."

And in his troubled eyes, I can see his raw soul and this bottomless pit. The righteous man lives in a dark and meaningless world, with no God, no Destiny, no purpose to his life. Poor man. Living without faith, without conviction, and hating himself for nearly having become a demon... It must be hard, for a Human.

"Not in my experience."

No. There is something else, deeper.

"What's the matter?"

Dean may not believe in anything, but he's important to the Lord, otherwise He wouldn't have sent us to rescue him. He is essential, indispensable, and destined to save Humanity. He's probably the most worthy person in the world to be saved. And yet...

"… You don't think you deserve to be saved."

I can tell by the look on his face that I am right.

"Why'd you do it?"

No time for compassion. I have a mission to carry out.

"Because God commanded it."

** _Castiel!_ **

I ignore Zedekiel's voice that just echoed through my head. I'm on a priority mission. This is not the time. I have the righteous man's full attention and I can finally tell him about his role in this war.

"Because we have work for you."

Dean is staring at me, frowning.

** _CASTIEL!_ **

Zedekiel's voice is growing more urgent, but whatever his problem is, he can wait a few more minutes.

"I see how it is. My get-out-of-jail-free card wasn't exactly free, that what you mean? What kind of _work_?"

** _Castiel, _ ** ** _please come_****_, _ ** ** _I’m begging you_****_! Ephra is dead!_ **

I feel my Grace freezing in my veins as I blink.

No. That’s impossible.

I snap my wings open and fly away without giving the righteous man an answer, without even a last glance. The situation is critical, and I have much more important things to do than to answer a Human's questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (will be updated on Sunday, July 12th)
> 
> _"I figured the goat joke was getting redundant and we needed some new material."_
> 
> _"Indeed, we really needed new jokes. We've been laughing about the goat for at least three or four millennia. It was time to move on!"_
> 
> _"The goat joke is perfectly fine. We don't need another one. And at least the goat joke is funny."_


	26. Broken seals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s note:** I know it’s been a while since I last updated, thank you for your patience and support! I found myself a boyfriend, so let’s say I’ve been quite distracted lately hehe. But don’t worry, I have no intention to abandon this story and its translation!
> 
> **Previously:** A few decades after his nomination as Garrison Commander, Castiel goes to Hell to save the righteous man's soul, which is the first seal that demons must break in order to free Lucifer and start the Apocalypse. After forty years of searching, Dean is rescued, but too late, and only he can now stop Lucifer. After trying in vain to talk to him, Castiel decides to take a vessel: Jimmy Novak. But when he finally speaks to Dean, Zedekiel informs him that Ephra is dead...

The wrinkled sand dunes seem blurred under the layer of rippling hot air. The sun is hitting the ground hard, reflected in the four-armed, Angel-shaped surface of solidified glass covering the sand. On each side, black ashes mingle with the clear sand, poor remnants of two majestic wings that the wind is already starting to scatter.

"How did it happen?"

Standing on Zedekiel's shoulder that seems so vast through my vessel's eyes, I look down upon this tragic sight. That's all that remains of our brother, faithful and loyal Ephra. Zedekiel's wings are rustling nervously in his back while his Grace is forming swirls under my brand new human feet.

"Ephra wasn't returning my calls, so I came to make sure he wasn't in trouble... this is how I found him, next to the broken seal..."

My vessel's coat is flapping in the wind and the clothes are flattened against my borrowed body. I squint my eyes and realize that the Egyptian tomb Ephra was guarding has indeed been profaned. Pharaoh's tomb, which contained his damned soul. The 429th seal, one of the easiest to break, which I personally assigned to Ephra, one of my best soldiers, to protect.

"It has to be demons..." Zedekiel says hesitantly.

I raise my head up to him and we share a look. These three blue orbs, wide and liquid like a lake, display my brother's anxiety. Getting used to my new height is not as difficult as I thought it would be – but possessing Jimmy makes me realize how impressive we must have looked to Adam, Eve and Cain in the past. I have always known Zedekiel as a dedicated but sloppy, distracted and lazy soldier – not to mention that he is always late – but he would pass for human eyes as a fearsome entity.

"That’s impossible," I say. "Demons can’t kill Angels."

My voice rumbles in my vessel's flesh, in my throat and rib cage - so different from my real voice, hoarse, and so _human_ \- but I try not to pay attention to it.

Zedekiel blinks, looking back down at the wind scattering the ashes.

"Maybe they found a way? The seal is broken, Castiel. It has to be them."

I can feel my eyebrows furrowing as I unfold my ethereal wings behind my back, and with just a beat, I’m now standing on the glass surface. On the ground and at human scale, the thick glass stretches as far as the eye can see, radiating heat and reflecting the sun's brightness. If only this burned Grace could tell me what happened...

"What are the orders, Castiel?"

I look up at Zedekiel, who's as bright as the sun.

"I will arrange a crisis meeting. In the meantime, go back to your station."

Zedekiel fervently nods, spreading his white wings and flying away at once, leaving me with only the endless sky above me. I turn around and walk in the direction of Ephra's head, my footsteps clattering on the glass that mirrors my outward appearance.

This is a failure. A horrible, crushing failure.

When I assumed Anna's position, I promised myself that never again would the Garrison suffer the loss of a soldier, not under my leadership. And now Ephra is dead, and another seal broken. That's one more step toward defeat. Toward the Apocalypse, the extinction of Humanity, the reign of demons on Earth.

If I fail to explain in my report exactly how Ephra died, I will lose all the credibility and respect that Dean Winchester's half rescue earned to my Garrison and my reputation. Since I was promoted, the Garrison went through nothing but setbacks. First Anna slipped through our fingers, then the first seal broke because we were too late in Hell, dozens of seals are already broken... and now an Angel's unexplained death. How is this even possible?

As I reach where Ephra's head must have been, I crouch down to brush against the reflecting surface with my fingers made of flesh. The glass is scalding hot and smooth. Unable to answer the questions assailing me.

For a brief moment, I understand what Anna meant, almost two thousand years earlier, when she spoke to me as we watched Camael's lifeless body. Ephra is gone, but all I can feel is some distant, detached sadness. As a General, my brother's death represents a hindrance to my Mission more than a tragedy. The imminent Apocalypse, everything that's expected of my position and getting the Garrison to be accepted in Heaven is far more important to me than his death in itself.

Anna was right. We don’t feel _anything_.

_**Ephra was killed in action,**_ I quietly announce to the entire Garrison.

Then, I promptly reserve the room that has been assigned to us since Zachariah gave me the new recruits.

** _The entire Garrison is summoned for a crisis meeting, room 1050. Immediately._ **

I rise up and gaze one last time upon my brother's glassy outline.

"Farewell," I whisper before exploding the reflecting surface with a flick of my hand. Glass shards shoot and slice into the air, sending glowing fragments of light everywhere, but I’m long gone before they fall back to the ground.

* * *

Elbows on the table and chin resting on my crossed fingers, I get a good look at my mismatched army. They're all here, except for the soldier assigned to watch over Jimmy Novak's family, whose orders are never to leave his post.

"I won't be long," I say sternly. " With the war going on, we can't afford to stop guarding the seals for more than a few minutes."

All eyes are set on me, and I squint, unsettled by the room's space, which appears warped and moving, as if alive. I'm not the only one who's taken a vessel. More than two dozen of my soldiers are now equipped, and our size differs so much from our brothers still in their true form, that it seems to have altered reality.

I would have thought having vessels in Heaven wouldn't be so different than on Earth. But I was wrong. The laws of physics ruling time and space on Earth do not apply to Heaven. Here, space adjusts itself to our size: the table is at my human scale, and my seat too has shrunk to fit. But for my giant soldiers, the oval table and everything around it remains sized to fit their dimensions. Never before have I seen space being so flexible, stretching, expanding and shrinking within the same place - somehow it reminds me of my isolation, where time had been so fluid and fluctuating. A Human would probably lose his mind when seeing such a sight that his brain could not even comprehend.

Good thing that this minor technical issue will no longer apply when everyone in Heaven will get their own vessel. Standardization will resolve this.

"As you know, one of our soldiers was killed in action."

None of the new recruits flinch but Zedekiel averts his gaze, and some of my former fellow soldiers are displaying signs of uneasiness.

"This is probably the work of demons. We need to find out how they did it and eliminate the threat. It is one more hindrance to the mission."

My wings are tightening behind my back as I hold back my anger and frustration. Had the hierarchy provided us with more resources, we wouldn't be in this mess today.

I'm expected to go to battle against all demons from Hell and stop the Apocalypse with one joke of an army. There are more than six hundred seals, and even if we're protecting the weakest as a priority, demons are winning ground every day. Practically by the hour.

How am I supposed to win in these conditions?

It is written that the one who breaks the first seal is the only one who can defeat Lucifer. Fate cannot be stopped. Is that why the higher command is letting us lose so blatantly?

"We will keep protecting the weakest seals as a priority, but with an element of unpredictability to hold the enemy at bay. Each one of you will be responsible for three or four seals, and will be constantly shifting from one to another."

The look in my soldiers' eyes hardens, their wings are stirring, as if preparing to fly off at my command.

"I want you to call the Garrison for backup in case of an attack you can't handle on your own. In the meantime, we need to find out exactly how demons could have killed Ephra. Baradiel, you will research all the possible ways to kill Angels that demons could possibly achieve. Uriel and Rzionr Nrzfm, you will be capturing demons and we will question them together. Htmorda, you will stay close to Dean Winchester and keep me informed on his activities."

"Is it really necessary to waste a soldier to babysit, Castiel? You already deprived the Garrison of an Angel to idly watch over your vessel's family..."

I look over and meet Hester's eyes. This is a double look, for he - or should I say _she_ \- is inside a blonde-haired and blue-eyed female vessel who's openly glaring at me. Her true face appears layered and translucent over the flesh one, her three grey eyes gleaming fiercely.

"I don’t want anything to happen to Dean," I tell her. "Should we lose the war, he will be Humanity's last hope."

"The righteous man can manage on his own! There's much more important things to worry about right now! You're supposed to be a strategist, Castiel!"

"If he dies..."

"If he dies, then what? We’ll just resurrect him!"

"Are you questioning authority, Hester?"

Hester, who had begun to stand up in her display of insolence, sit back down with her wings folded and fists clenched.

The anger that has been growing inside me since Anna fled sets my Grace ablaze. While I have to put up with constant criticism from my superiors, I will not allow any kind of disrespect from my subordinates.

"Of course not," she finally answers stiffly.

"Don’t forget who I am," I say coldly. "I represent the Will of God and you owe me obedience and respect. Orders are orders, and they are not to be discussed."

She lowers her head, her wings dropping as a sign of submission. Silence falls in the warped room as I assign seals to my soldiers.

"Last thing: you must all invest a vessel within the next two days. Balthazar, you will ensure it. Dismissed!"

All my soldiers fly out in a flurry of flapping wings, and soon the place is empty except for Balthazar and myself. The space immediately adjusts to our small size, since Balthazar also owns a vessel now.

"Why are you still here, Balthazar?"

The vessel's hair is ashy blond, he has a sparse beard and blue eyes, and gives me a playful smile as he approaches me. He gently tugs at my tie, smoothing it between his fingers.

"You might want to fix this, Cassy, it makes you look kind of messy. Same with the holes in the clothes and all the blood. Vessels need to be cleaned up and kept in good condition. Especially one this pretty."

He winks at me and disappears without another word. I frown and look down at my borrowed body as I pull apart the coat's layers. With everything that happened, I had completely forgotten about the bullet holes and stab wound.

I concentrate, and the next moment the clothes are spotless, the skin is smooth and undamaged, and the heart starts beating in my chest again.

There's still the matter of the tie Jimmy loosened before I took possession of him... How do Humans do it again? These useless strips of cloth are fairly new, and I've never really given them much thought. I untie it, and I try to make the knot as well as I can.

There. That will do just fine.

* * *

"Come in!"

Zachariah's voice sounds different than usual. Human.

I carefully open his office door and frown as I face Zachariah in human form, sitting at his spotless desk. Behind his true face - immaterial, like a haze of light - there is a balding, sneering Human.

"These things smell worse than I expected. It's disgusting. No matter how hard I tried to clean it, I couldn't get rid of the lingering stench of organic life. First chance I get, I'm gonna dump this stinking pile of meat. But orders are orders, right?"

"Right," I nod, because what else am I supposed to say?

Zachariah leans forward, elbows on his desk, and gives me a long, hard stare.

"Be honest with me, Castiel. What do you think of my vessel? Balthazar told me it was the best he had, but I can't trust anything that comes out of his lying mouth."

"I..."

I can feel my forehead furrowing and my eyebrows frowning as I take a closer look at Zachariah's vessel. Except for the fact that he has no hair and doesn't look exactly young, I don't know what to think about it.

"Am I beautiful?" he insists, pointing at his features with a hand gesture.

"I don't know. I've never really been able to tell a beautiful Human from an ugly one. My apologies."

Zachariah pinches his nose bridge, sighing in frustration.

"Me neither."

"Does it matter? A vessel's aesthetic appearance is irrelevant."

Zachariah leans back on his seat and crosses his hands on his stomach with a shrug.

"Nah. It's just that I've got some bets going with the Council members against the budget administration staff, and... Anyway. Why did you want to see me, Castiel?"

Bets? The Council is indulging in trivialities during a time of crisis, when my soldiers are outnumbered and fighting on several fronts? This is not just a war against demons, the Apocalypse is at stake!

"I am having difficulties with my mission. Demons are attacking multiple seals simultaneously. My soldiers are able to eliminate them most of the time, but there are too few of us to protect all of the seals at once. Especially since the demons seem to have found a way to kill us."

Zachariah raises his eyebrows, looking mildly bored.

"So what? Mission reports and statements of complications are to be sent to the administration, not to me."

I tighten my ethereal wings behind my back.

"I need more soldiers to stop the Apocalypse, Zachariah. I would need an army of at least a thousand soldiers to be efficient."

He gets up and walks around his desk to face me, hands clasped behind his back.

"I completely understand, and our superiors do realize how challenging your mission is, but I'm sure you'll do perfectly fine."

"But..."

"I really wish I could help, believe me. Budget and workforce have been assigned for the century. We made a big exception to the procedure already by providing you with two hundred of our best soldiers, and I'm still wading through all the paperwork it generated. There's only so much we can do for you. Don’t be greedy, Castiel."

So this is it? Won't the high command do anything to help me? Am I expected to basically stop the Apocalypse all by myself?

Zachariah grins at me and gives me a patronizing pat on the shoulder.

"I know it isn’t easy. A piece of advice: try to improve your results. If you don't, the Garrison will go down in history as the one who brought on the Apocalypse!"

I glance down on the hand touching my shoulder, trying very hard not to shove it away.

** _Requesting immediate backup! My seal is being attacked by a thousand demons!_ **

That was Rachel’s voice. With a single flap of wings, I leave the white desk behind and land on an aerial battlefield high above the ocean. Rachel is guarding a seal hidden in an undersea cavern bearing the Mother of All's markings. We discovered a few centuries ago that to survive the Flood, Eve sought shelter there and created bloodthirsty aquatic monsters that will be set free should the seal be broken.

I can feel my blade, made of Grace hardening in my vein, piercing my right forearm's skin and slipping out. It falls from my sleeve directly into my hand. All around me, there are dozens of my soldiers, some with vessels and some without.

Only now, in the midst of the action, do I realize how valuable an advantage it is to own a vessel in a battle. Just like Balthazar once said, a single touch is enough to slay the most powerful demons, but I also can unleash such extraordinary power with every move I make, almost effortlessly. Additionally, a flap of my wings is all it takes for me to travel at the speed of light, through air or underwater alike. I command my soldiers to regroup and surround the enemy in one single spot.

_**Now****!**_ I order without using my mouth.

My soldiers - about a hundred of them - all together blast a wave of pure energy right into this cluster of thick, black smoke. The demons are screaming and trying to escape, but no one can get past the wide circle of Angels surrounding them from all sides.

After a few seconds, we silently lower our arms. I descend back to the water darkened by the rain of ashes falling down.

The enemy is defeated.

I am standing on the water, ripples gently lapping against my feet without getting them wet. With a flutter of her wings, Rachel lands next to me in a brand new vessel - a pale blonde woman pinching her lips.

"The seal is secured," she proudly announces.

This is a victory. There is a smile grazing my lips, but I hold my satisfaction deep inside. Winning a battle and winning the war are two very different things.

"Go back to your positions," I say.

Within seconds, I find myself alone with Rachel on the ocean.

"You are a great General, Castiel. We will stop the Apocalypse."

Pride sends a pleasant thrill through my Grace as I lift my chin and glance at Rachel out of the corner of my eye. And for a moment, I allow myself to be smug.

"Thank you, Rachel."

Right up to the skyline, the ocean is reflecting clouds and clear blue as the sulfur is sinking into the deep. Wind blows through my hair and snaps my coat open.

**_Soldiers, what is your current situation? _** I ask my soldiers through the celestial wavelengths.

The voice of the soldier guarding Jimmy's family is the first to inform me that nothing is happening, followed by Htmorda's.

** _Dean, Sam and Bobby are talking about you and doing some research in books. Otherwise, nothing too exciting._ **

** _Unless Dean _ ** ** _i_****_s in imminent mortal danger, I don't care what he's doing, _** I answer.

I have more than enough going on right now. All I need is to make sure the righteous man remains unharmed.

My soldiers' reports are flowing into my head, clear and to the point. Everyone answered the call except three. Three Angels among my new recruits did not respond.

It's like everything is slowing down, the sounds seem to be muffled when I fly to the place they were guarding and find them just like Ephra was. Each one was found dead alone, next to the broken seal they were assigned to protect.

Only when I report the details of their deaths to the Garrison and to the chain of command do I realize that these three soldiers died before I had a chance to learn their names.

* * *

I grab a demon's human face, slamming it hard against the wall. The energy I push into the body purifies and obliterates all evil, with pure white light shining from the eyes and mouth. The empty body drops to the ground with a dull, muffled sound, all fried from the inside. I whirl around, my coat flying open, and I see my soldiers wiping out and trapping the last enemies still alive. Uriel is holding two of them who are struggling, their black eyes terrified, unable to break free. My brother's dark ebony skin is stained with blood as he grins.

"I'm taking them in for interrogation, Castiel."

I nod, and Uriel disappears in a rustle of feathers. Now every soldier in my Garrison has their own vessel, which makes us far more powerful in battle.

This is another victory - demons have been wiped out, Pmox's seal is safe, and this time none of my soldiers died.

One victory for how many defeats? No matter how many battles we win, demons are nearing their goal. While we fight to defend a seal, they move swiftly to attack our abandoned positions. We can't be everywhere simultaneously, and we're not omniscient. Twenty-three seals have now been broken, and the Garrison lost four soldiers. And it's only been two days since we raised the righteous man from Hell. Two days of raging war, of unending battles.

It's like having to fight against the rising tide.

"Thank you, Miz…" says Pmox, grabbing the hand Miz is holding out for him to get up from the ground.

The slightest noise echoes through the abandoned factory as I walk towards my soldiers, striding over the corpses littering the ground.

"You could have handled this on your own, Pmox," I reprimand him. "There weren't that many of them."

Pmox's vessel is Asian which is unusual, and not exactly young - about five decades old, I guess, and quite chubby. He dusts off his clothes, avoiding my gaze and chewing his lower lip.

"I know, Castiel, but... I... I panicked."

He looks up at me, dark circles under his vessel's fearful eyes.

"You are a warrior of the Lord, Pmox. You should behave like one."

"Sorry."

His wings clasp behind his back and he looks down dejectedly

"I know I’m not a good soldier. Contrary to what everyone may think of me, I am not so stupid as to be unaware that my former division got rid of me for this reason."

Miz stretches out one ethereal and shadowy wing to wrap around Pmox whose eyes are brimming with tears. I look up at Miz's impassive face. Like Uriel's vessel, Miz's skin is dark, but his body is younger, taller and slender. He is staring at me intently, his face blank, and he opens his mouth.

"Pmox is not qualified to guard seals alone. He is putting himself and the Mission in jeopardy. I volunteer to take him under my charge."

"This is actually not a bad idea," Levanael chimes in. "Miz and Pmox have always proved to be more efficient together."

Levanael, appearing as a blonde woman in a white dress, smiles at me softly, surely intending to appease me.

I heave a sigh as my three soldiers are expecting me to sort this out.

** _Castiel! I don't mean to alarm you, but your Human is getting attacked. He's been involved with a broken seal, the one about the witnesses..._ **

Htmorda's neutral voice is getting annoying. I can't hear myself think inside my own head.

** _Htmorda, _ ** ** _I’m busy here_ ** **_!_** I snap back at him. ** _ Don't interrupt me unless he's dying. Or better yet, don't contact me unless he's already lying dead. I'll just resurrect him._ **

** _Alright, then. Besides, now that I think about it, he's actually managing not so badly for a Human!_ **

I pinch my lips and take a look at Levanael, Pmox and Miz.

"Fine. I'll allow a pairing, as an exception."

Pmox and Levanael both thank me and I quickly leave. I have a lot of work to do. Being a General in wartime is harder than I expected.

The factory fades into endless wooden shelves filled with books. I can't see where they end because of the golden mist floating all around. I hadn't set foot in the library since Heaven was created. Nothing has changed here.

I take a few steps forward and run my fingers over the book spines lined up as far as I can see. The leather and velvet bindings engraved with gold Enochian markings are soft and firm, they inspire worship. There are so many secrets inside. Secrets that taught Azazel the banishing seal and how to bring back the Mother and free Lucifer.

My finger pauses on a book whose title refers to various levels of concealment seals on Humans. With the meat of my thumb, I trace down the symbols and they seem to be glowing at my touch. I remember Gabriel telling me two thousand years ago that he gave Camael the idea of the seal to save Cain. Did he learn how to proceed from that very book? Or did the Archangel teach him directly?

"Castiel. Can I help you with something?"

I instantly remove my hand from the book. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't notice one of the Sisters of Destiny standing right behind me. I turn around to face a blond female vessel staring coldly at me over glasses perched on her nose.

"Atropos," I say with an acknowledging nod.

She slowly blinks, unsmiling. The memo stating that all Angels must take possession of a vessel was recently sent out, but I had no idea that it also applied to the Sisters of Destiny. Technically, they are not Angels.

I look at Atropos intently. Just like us, her wings and her face, incorporeal, are layered over her borrowed body. But instead of a glowing mist, her true appearance overflows as a shimmering bluish shadow. On her true face, seven silvery eyes are staring at me with barely concealed suspicion.

"I’m looking for Baradiel. I sent him up here to study how a demon could possibly slay an Angel."

"You are in the wrong section." She pinches her lips. "This is the section about forbidden seals, your rank doesn't authorize you to be here. Follow me."

She turns on her heels, flipping her long blonde hair behind her back, and I follow her between the shelves. Silence wraps around us like oil, and strangely enough, our feet make no sound at all when they hit the ground. The endless bookshelves keep extending before my eyes until she leads me into an open space where there are tables and chairs arranged in rows, and a few dozen Angels inside their vessels reading books with the utmost studious silence.

Atropos nods severely at me and leaves me there to head for a dais where she takes her place. Then she flips through a book, peering inquisitively at the readers.

One of them waves at me discretely, and I recognize Baradiel inside his flesh suit, a young man with dark and wistful eyes. I walk up to the lean, pale vessel whose long chestnut hair is gathered in a bun, and sit down next to him.

"What did you find out, Baradiel?"

"_Silence_ in the library!" Atropos's voice immediately snaps like a whip.

I squint and try again, this time speaking to my soldier directly into his head.

** _Have you figured out how demons _ ** ** _are_ ** ** _ kill_ ** ** _ing_ ** ** _ Angels?_ **

Baradiel looks down at his book and turns the pages to show me his research.

** _There are very few ways to kill us. Only Leviathans, God, Death, the Sisters of Destiny and Angels are capable of it. There are some spells that can destroy us as well, but only if we pronounce them ourselves – in other words, suicide._ **

I can’t help frowning.

** _That’s_ ** ** _ impossible. Four Angels have already been killed by demons. You must have missed something._ **

Baradiel's gaze is so profound that it seems to pierce through my Grace, straight into my holy spirit.

** _I have not_** **_, Castiel. At least, I didn't miss anything that's written in those books. I can only find two logical explanations for what happened: either the demons were able to get their hands on an Angel's blade, or... an Angel, Death, or God Himself is killing your soldiers._ **

It can’t be. Why would Father or one of my brethren do this? It's impossible. Absurd, even.

** _So we're looking for a missing Angel blade. Or maybe the demons found another way that isn't written in these books. Lucifer bent Death to his will during the last Apocalypse. Could the demons have managed to replicate the spell?_ **

Baradiel looks up at me. There is a glimmer of pity in his eyes.

** _Castiel... I really don't think demons are behind this..._ **

** _That’s for me to decide_****_. You can cease your research now and join the Garrison into battle. _ ** ** _This is an order_****_._ **

And then I disappear to fly out with a vigorous wingbeat into the torture chamber we have set up on Earth. Bent over a demon strapped to the pentagram I made myself, Uriel turns to me, a glass of holy water in his hand.

"Castiel," he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. "We were just starting to have fun."

The black-eyed demon coughs up a splatter of blood on the ground, his face convulsed with pain. I walk a few steps closer and take a look at the demon before staring at Uriel.

"Did he talk?"

"Except for claiming he doesn't know anything, no, he didn't. Perhaps I'm not convincing enough. I've always been too soft and kind."

Sarcasm.

I frown thinking back on Baradiel's troubling words.

"Uriel... Do you think... do you really think demons are causing these deaths?"

Uriel raises his eyebrows high while pouring holy water on the head of the demon who is screaming at the top of his lungs. He gives me a puzzled and slightly suspicious look.

"Who else would ever want Lucifer back?"

"You're right. Of course. It can only be demons."

My blade pierces my forearm's skin and comes out of it, falling into my hand. Uriel watches me unblinkingly as I brutally stab it into the demon's wrist. His scream drowns out the distant memories of Camael grimacing with pain while nails were ripping out his flesh and skin.

"How are the demons killing Angels?" I demand coldly, lowering my eyes into his.

Tainted, sulfur-laden blood is running down my blade and staining my fingers.

"I don't know!" he yells, writhing in pain. "I don't know anything!"

I slowly twist my blade into the wound. There are red sparks flashing and crackling across his hand, and his agony grows even louder. Blood is dripping on my wrist and staining my coat sleeve as I watch his ugly, true face cover the unfortunate possessed Human's one.

"Who commanded you to break the seals?"

"Castiel," says Uriel. "As I recall, we are expected to be only looking for information about our fallen brothers' deaths. The hierarchy..."

"I know what we've been ordered to do, Uriel," I say without taking my eyes off the demon. "But I want to know who's leading them, now that Azazel's dead."

Uriel merely shrugs and turns his back.

"Who's giving you the orders?"

I yank my blade off his wrist and place it under the demon's quivering chin.

"Lilith! It's Lilith, the first demon Lucifer created! She is the one breaking the seals!"

I slide my blade over his face, close to his right eye, to urge him to go on. He vainly tries to move his head back as the sharp edge brushes against his eyelashes.

"Lilith and Alastair have taken Hell's throne together! Only they can answer you!"

He doesn't seem to be lying. I withdraw my blade and let it return to my Grace, pondering.

Then, without a word, I thrust my hand over his face, shooting my energy into his body to kill him.

"Alastair..." I whisper quietly. "The demon who tortured Dean in Hell..."

Hands in his pockets, Uriel is staring at me with an expression I can't read. A rustle of feathers draws my attention. An Angel appeared in the shape of a Human child, barely ten or eleven years old. He has red hair and an arrogant look on his chubby, freckled face. Only when I take a look at his true face do I recognize Rzionr Nrzfm.

"Where do I drop this one, my General?"

He is one-handedly holding a demon possessing a Human.

"Rzionr Nrzfm," I say disapprovingly. "Why are you equipped with a vessel not yet out of childhood? We were told only adults were qualified."

My soldier snickers and tosses the demon into the pentagram traced on the ground - facing the still tied corpse - before wiping his hands.

"Yeah, that's what Balthazar would have us believe," he says, his voice high-pitched like children's are. "But the truth is, any Human with special blood and clever enough to understand our question and answer 'yes' will do. Balthazar just prefers adults for their sexual possibilities."

What ? It can't be. Does this mean that I could have already invested Claire's body, and that Balthazar only gave me Jimmy because his daughter has not reached puberty yet?

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," says Uriel, smirking, "since redheads have no soul."

Rzionr Nrzfm and Uriel inexplicably burst out laughing. What's so funny?

"This isn't true," I say. "All Humans, regardless of their skin and hair color, have a soul."

"It's a joke, Cas," Uriel chuckles. "A joke!"

"But this isn't funny."

"Oh but it is, it really is," Rzionr Nrzfm nods with conviction.

"It is a bit funny, I have to admit."

That was the demon talking, and he promptly shuts up when our heads turn to stare him down. Uriel's purple eyes sparkle with glee when he looks back at me.

"I planted this thought in European human minds a thousand years ago when Anna wasn't looking. What do you think? I figured the goat joke was getting redundant and we needed some new material."

"Indeed, we really needed new jokes," nods Rzionr Nrzfm. "We've been laughing about the goat for at least three or four millennia. It was time to move on!"

I can't help frowning. How dare they?

"The goat joke is perfectly fine. We don't need another one."

Moreover, it is part of a memory very precious to me. The memory of my brothers united into a shared and carefree laughter. Definitely the best memory of my entire existence. Uriel opens his mouth to answer, and I cut him off with a commanding glare.

"And at least the goat joke is funny. But enough about goats and red-headed Humans. Now we know that Alastair and Lilith are leading the operation. We need to capture one of them for questioning."

"So I guess we don't need this one after all?" asks Rzionr Nrzfm, carelessly pointing at the demon he brought back.

"Interrogate him anyway. Just in case."

* * *

Darkness engulfs me like a pool of ink when I walk into the cave. It reeks of blood and sulfur in here. I squint, eyes piercing through the shadows. Uneven stone walls are smeared with demonic markings drawn in blood. I touch the still dripping liquid with my fingertips. It's the blood of virgins whose throats have been slit open.

I step to Jesus Christ's tomb built into the rock. I had removed his corpse at the time, leaving only the blood-stained burial linen cloth. Now all that's left of it is still hot ashes. Camael's blood was one of the seals that Pmox and Miz were assigned to protect.

There's something lying motionless in a dark corner. I can feel my Grace freezing in my vessel's veins when I spot two huge ash stains imprinted on the walls and the ground. A pair of wings.

As I move closer, I can see more clearly the human body Pmox used to possess, lying here at my feet. And he is not alone. Down on his knees with his head lowered, Miz has his arms wrapped around him, cradling Pmox's head against his chest. He's not moving either, and it doesn't take me long to realize that he is also dead. His wings have burned directly onto Pmox's body, scorching through his clothes like a hot iron.

A wave of sadness washes over me as I kneel down to close Miz's eyes and then stroke Pmox's hair. For all his clumsiness, Pmox was a loyal and obedient soldier. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hard on him...

Two more dead soldiers. I feel helpless and the weight on my shoulders grows heavier. My small army is thinning on a daily basis, while the war rages on and seals get broken one by one.

What if Baradiel was right after all? Could this be God's punishment for all my failures? Is it because I took Anna's place only to do worse than her?

I close my eyes and fervently pray to my Father. And like it has always been since my Creation, I receive no answer.

To think that my Creator wants to punish me and destroy the Garrison carves a dreadful void in me. A void that my devotion used to fill until now. The Lord created me and my one and only role is to serve Him. Who am I if He no longer has use for me? How could I even still exist?

For one short moment, I wonder if this is how Dean feels every day. That ice-cold sensation of falling into the void, of crumbling down on the inside. To have no certainty, nothing to hold on to.

There is a drop of blood dripping from Miz's lips and falling on Pmox's cheek when I open my eyes again. Under Miz's protective arm, there is a blood stain on Pmox's white shirt. So, I pull Pmox from the embrace and lift up the cloth. On the chest's limp, pale skin there is a clean, distinct, blood-soaked hole. A deep one.

The weight on my shoulders gets lighter and my Grace loosens up.

Once I examined Miz, there's no doubt in my mind that my soldiers were killed with a weapon. Miz has a similar wound in his back, right between his wings, which no longer exist.

A weapon did this, not God's Will.

How could I doubt God? How could my Faith waver so easily? My Father would never do such a cruel thing. He would never.

I try not to think that He could have saved my soldiers and averted so many more tragedies by just intervening, and that He never did. The Lord works in mysterious ways. I know this. And no matter how many times I have reminded myself of this, never before has this sentence seemed so empty, now that I'm standing in front of my brothers' lifeless bodies.

However, my duty is to obey, not to think. I will follow orders as best I can, and should I fail, Dean will succeed where I couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (will be updated in August)
> 
> _"Sometimes you just need to embrace change. Go with the flow. Clinging to the past and initial orders can be a bad thing..."_


	27. Signs of the Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Ever since they came back from the Hell with Dean, the Garrison soldiers have been battling against demons to stop them from breaking the 66 seals and setting Lucifer free. All Angels are now equipped with a human vessel. Castiel is facing difficulties, because even with 200 new soldiers, his army is still outnumbered. The seals are being broken one by one, and things get worse when soldiers mysteriously die. Six Angels, including Ephra, Pmox and Miz, have been killed now, and all Castiel knows is that a weapon was used.
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 2**.

"And to think we all considered four soldiers killed in action and two executions under Anael's direction to be the worst that could possibly happen."

"What's the death toll again? Six in just three days time?"

"They couldn't even manage to catch Anael!"

"And as if that wasn't enough, they lazed around in Hell for so long they let the first seal break."

"We all have Castiel to thank for the upcoming Apocalypse! Worried we'd get bored, were you?"

Some ironic applause ensues. Sitting stiffly at the long, white table, I keep my eyes fixed on a distant point, my Grace moving slowly in my vessel's veins. All the division commanders are staring at me with either open animosity, sarcasm or polite indifference. The seats next to me are empty - it seems like no one wanted to sit too close to me, in case it could be interpreted as being supportive of me.

"Come on, now, let's not be too hard on Castiel," says Zachariah with a self-indulgent smile. "He's still a youngster, just learning his way around a high position... we've all made mistakes in our young years, right? I screwed up too, with the dinosaurs. Not my proudest moment, but I've cleaned up my act since then! The Great Ice Age was a huge mess as well. Oh and during the Sixth War, Ecanus and Eboza did throw a part of the ocean up in orbit, remember!"

In his human appearance of a young, dark-skinned Native American, Ecanus glares at Zachariah.

"Don't bring the Sixth War into this. That was completely different, I was wounded and couldn't hear the orders correctly."

"Our mistakes were nothing like Castiel's!" Brap huffs. "None of us tripped and inadvertently started an Apocalypse!"

"Oh, please!" Zachariah lets a high-pitched snicker out. "The Apocalypse! We're not there yet, come on! Castiel's working hard to protect the seals, right? Castiel, how many seals have been broken?"

"Twenty-nine," I say.

"_Only_ twenty-nine!" an Angel mimics aggressively. "Then everything's peachy!"

"Could we focus instead on the issue of credit-sharing on the provisional budget for the next century? As far as I'm concerned, Apocalypse or no Apocalypse, it's all the same to me. Plankton will live through it."

That was Leoc, head of the Plankton Division and Pmox's former General. Just hearing his voice ignites my Grace with anger very hard to repress. He hardly even blinked at the news of his former soldier's death, nor did it seem to surprise him. As if he'd had Pmox transferred to my Garrison hoping for this.

I clench my fists and struggle to keep a neutral expression.

"In his defense, Castiel disposes of a small army, and there's only so much he can do. Accusing him of bringing on the Apocalypse the way _Lucifer_ did is preposterous. Castiel has always been a loyal soldier, and I dare anyone to question his efforts to save the species in his charge. I am convinced that he has all the qualifications to succeed, and that his difficulties are only due to a lack of troops. Zachariah, I mentioned at the Council meeting that I could dispatch some of my soldiers to..."

"You don't need to remind me, Ophaniel. Your request was rejected by the chain of command, so there's no need to drag it out again. Also, Castiel doesn't need you to defend him, he's a big boy. Why don't you go back to your rabbits and kittens and other cute little animals? That's what you do best."

I turn to look at the Angel who stood up for me. Her female vessel is small and slender, and her short hair is tangled in wild curls. For all her heart-shaped face, she's exuding dignity and raw power. Purple and veined with orange, her three eyes are staring at me dispassionately.

Ophaniel. The General of the Ground Animals Division, Hester and Virgil's supervisor. After thousands of years, what was supposed to be a short-term situation became permanent, but my two soldiers are still working for both our divisions.

It is unusual for her to intervene in meetings except to defend her own soldiers' needs. Why is she defending _me_?

"Castiel, what do you have to say for yourself? No pressure, but your failures are driving us all to the Apocalypse."

I look away from Ophaniel to glower at Zachariah, who raises his eyebrows, smirking. Cold rage rushes through my veins and unfurls my wings in my back. How dare he? How dare they all look down on me and blame me even though I relentlessly fight to save Humanity, to protect my soldiers' lives, while they sit at their desks all day long filling out their charts and statistics or making some silly bets?

"How am I expected to defeat Hell's forces and protect more than six hundred seals with merely two hundred soldiers under my command, when Alastair and Lilith have found a way to kill us, Zachariah? Give me a proper army to lead, and Lucifer will never leave his cage!"

Zachariah tilts his head to the side and blinks smugly, pretending to be sorry.

"Heh!" He raises his hands nonchalantly. "Don't shoot the messenger! I'd do anything to help you, and if it were up to me, I'd give you the army you need right now. I personally forwarded your request up there just the other day, and you know what they told me? That you have to do this _alone_. These are orders from above, from _God_, and you know as well as any of us that the Lord works in mysterious ways."

He solemnly points at the ceiling, then shrugs and stops smiling.

"I strongly advise you to pull yourself together, Castiel. Keep what's left of your army alive, fight back this Apocalypse with the means God has given you, and for Heaven's sake, stop whining over your duty, it's annoying. Now _sit down._"

I didn't realize I had stood up. The silence is deafening as I slowly sit back down.

"Good!" Zachariah clasps his hands with false enthusiasm. "Just in case we lose, do me a favor and go tell Dean he'll have to step up and fix it, will you?"

"I have to tell Dean... about the Apocalypse?"

Zachariah waves my question off.

"Yes, sure, tell him roughly about the seals, the Apocalypse, Lucifer, the whole thing. After all, you told us that he has encountered a seal before, right? He's already in on this. Don't bother explaining that everything rests on him, not yet. It's a bit too soon for our brave savior."

Let Dean know what's happening... Zachariah sounds like he thinks I've already failed. As if the war raging on Earth, in which my soldiers are fighting relentlessly, is doomed to be lost. As if we're nothing but pawns, and our efforts are a waste of time and energy.

"I don't..."

"Shush. That's an order. You know what, go and tell him _right now_. Having you here is disrupting the meeting schedule and tempting everyone to bet on your next failure."

I rise slowly, silent and livid, humiliation increasing my anger. Zachariah isn't even looking at me anymore.

"So, let's talk about that one little mix-up on the budget of..."

I disappear in a furious flapping of wings.

* * *

The meeting room's spotless whiteness turns to darkness. Invisible to mortal eyes, I land next to the righteous man who is sleeping on the floor. Wrath is burning through my Grace, bitter humiliation throbbing within me, fueled by Zachariah's voice still echoing in my head.

"Castiel?"

That was Htmorda's voice breaking the silence with human rough intonations. Right. I had assigned him Dean Winchester's protection. I look up at his winged figure lurking in a dark corner. He walks towards me heavily, his vessel's large body stepping out of the shadows. The moonlight where silver dust slowly rains down unveils a bearded man whose skin is tattooed. I had not yet seen his vessel. When our eyes meet, he stiffens and frowns at me.

"Are you alright? Is there something wrong? Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

"No."

I don't bother clarifying which of his questions I have just answered, and I crouch down at the righteous man's side, sharply folding back my wings. Sam Winchester is also here, lying on the couch, and I need to talk to Dean _alone_.

"I need peace and quiet to focus," I say. "Be quiet, Htmorda."

"Huh, right. Okay."

I put two fingers on Dean's forehead, and just before I dive into his dream, I can see his eyelashes fluttering and his eyebrows furrowing.

For a brief moment, it seems like I made a mistake.

But I didn't. I definitely am deep inside his drowsy mind, directly absorbed into his dream. Except that this dream is completely identical to reality: Dean Winchester is dreaming that he's sleeping on the floor of Bobby's house, while his brother is lying on the couch. It's strikingly realistic. Humans who create such real life like dreams are quite rare. The righteous man, I guess, is no ordinary Human in many ways.

Here, in the depths of the righteous man's mind, I am standing in this imaginary setting and leaning back against the furniture behind me, with my eyes set on Dean. This unusual dream isn't enough to distract me from the thoughts storming within me. I have been _kicked out_ of the meeting even though it was just beginning, and this offense only adds to the continued pressure on my Garrison, to my soldiers' unexplained deaths, and to the hierarchy's blatant lack of respect for me. Even worse, my own soldiers show no respect for my rank. Two decades have now passed since I assumed the position, but they still don't seem to fear me or respect me the way the Council members are by their troops. Nor even the way Anna was. Don't I deserve more consideration than a rebel who abandoned her soldiers and denied her nature? Unlike her, _I_ have always been obedient!

Dean's lying shape stirs and he takes a look at me. He obviously doesn't realize he's still sleeping.

I need to pull myself together. I am an Angel of the Lord and the General of the Garrison, I have to accomplish my mission without letting my personal issues get in the way. Zachariah is right. Should my army fail, the righteous man must be prepared.

I observe him walking to me. I only briefly went through Htmorda's report, and according to what he wrote, Dean Winchester and his brother managed - with Bobby's help - to put the witnesses' souls at rest and set them free. We have been so busy protecting the seals that we have had little time to minimize or eliminate the repercussions of those that have already been broken. These three Humans have saved us the trouble. Hardly significant in this context of impending Apocalypse, of course, but at least innocent people won't have to suffer any further damages. Which is not bad, especially coming from a Human destined to save his species.

I force a smile on my face.

"Excellent job with the witnesses."

A compliment, the kind I would have appreciated to receive myself. Dean deserves it. He proved his worth as a soldier. As a weapon.

"You were hip to all this?"

Indignation washes away any trace of hesitation in his eyes.

"I was, uh... made aware."

No need to explain to a Human how Heaven's administration system works. If knowing that I was aware of his struggles is enough to upset him, how would he react if he found out that one of my soldiers has been constantly watching him these past few days and not interfering?

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance! You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest!"

It's tempting to reply that should that have happened, I would have just brought him back to life again. But I have to stay calm and dignified. I am a messenger of God.

"But you didn't."

The look in Dean's eyes hardens.

"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos - you know, Michael Landon. Not _dicks_."

I assume he's not talking about the Archangel Michael, and he's just referring to something I don't understand. The human imagination surrounding our existence has always been wrong. Ever since the failed Apocalypse and those residual, poorly erased memories in their subconscious mind.

Guardians are rare, and to my knowledge, this kind of mission has not been formally assigned since Cain. Now, the closest thing is the protection of vessels or their families - and that's only when the Angel has been asked to do so and actually keeps his promise. I know for a fact that there are Angels who disregard their vessels, and sometimes leave them in a poor condition, or even deliberately put them in a coma, just so they won't have to ask for their consent to invest their bodies the next time. I can't imagine what Dean would think of them or any of my superiors. I guess the word _dick_ would certainly apply to Zachariah.

Guardians... No. We are certainly not Guardians, not even within the Garrison. The only Guardian Angel that ever existed was Camael. We were created to obey and fight. We are pawns on the Lord's chessboard and no one cares for the fallen. For orders are orders.

"Read the Bible," I say. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you fight?"

I can feel my wings clenching tighter behind my back. I was combating long before he was born, before this continent was even fully formed. I am God's weapon. I serve Him, and no one else.

I had sensed all the guilt and self-hatred in Dean's soul, though. Is my current appearance what makes him think I'm at his service? Since their creation, Humans have always shown respect for those who are physically larger and more powerful than they are.

If he could see me as I really am, Dean certainly wouldn't address me with such insolence.

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns."

"Concerns?"

Yes, like saving his species from Lucifer's claws. Dean is starting to annoy me. No Human could ever understand. I have seen with my own eyes the Earth burned to ashes and then flooded, the entire Humanity perishing, all my Father's creations drowning or dying screaming in the fire... I never want to live through this again. Through my many years of watching over Humans, I have learned to value and admire them in spite of their flaws and mistakes. I don't want to see them disappear.

"There were people getting torn to shreds down here!"

Looking down at the kitchen table, I can't help but think about my soldiers who were killed by demons. Dead in battle to save Humanity, Dean included, they never received any thanks, not even a single tear was shed for them. No one will ever mourn them or honor their memory.

Now I understand what Anna meant when Camael died. I, too, would have wanted the Humans to mourn Ephra, Pmox and Miz and still remember them in two thousand years.

"And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?"

I look up sharply at Dean, the blasphemy awakening an ancient terror in me. Last time I heard such a terrible one, Siosp had been executed right before my eyes. Reduced to ashes to set an example.

"There is a God," I snap back.

"I'm not convinced."

I look down, struggling for the right words. Dean is Human, he is not bound by our laws: he is allowed to utter such atrocities with no fear for consequences. I could read in his soul a dreadful lack of Faith, and Faith is what drives my entire existence and gives it meaning. How could I possibly explain what is inherently acquired, what is natural to me?

There are no words for this in human language.

"'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

These are questions that I have asked myself on many occasions. These are dangerous, shameful, forbidden questions that only Faith can repel. I often have to remind myself that I'm not in a position to understand my Father's plan, and that I have to trust Him. He knows what He is doing.

"The Lord works..."

"… If you say _mysterious ways_, so help me, I will kick your ass!"

I raise my hands in resignation. I have been told this so many times in my life. Just a few minutes earlier, from Zachariah's mouth. I am not in the mood to attempt to convert a Human who doesn't believe what's right in front of him. Not when frustration and doubts are eating at me, so much more than during the Flood.

It is ironic that our fate rests on a Human who denies the very existence of the Lord.

During the Flood, for a few seconds, I had considered insubordination. But I have never doubted my Father's existence. _Never._ I know He exists. My doubts are of a completely different nature. Because with my tens of millions of years of age, and while I'm still quite young for an Angel, I still don't understand anything about God's decisions. What if He wishes to take down the Garrison as punishment for our disobedience? For failing to inspire Faith to the Humans through Camael's sacrifice?

An Angel's devotion cannot be self-interested. It is complete and absolute. Should it be His Will, then I shall comply. For I cannot live without His approval.

"So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse."

Still leaning against the furniture, I take a breath and clench my hands - only two of them, which is something I'm just getting used to. The righteous man himself is refocusing the conversation back to my mission objective. Good. Questions about my Father's absence make me uncomfortable and bring back to the surface some of my earlier doubts.

"That's why we're here. Big things afoot."

"Do I want to know what kind of things?"

Dark green in the half-light, his eyes grow wary. I wonder how he would react if he knew the truth. Perhaps he never will, if I miraculously defeat the armies of Hell with my two hundred soldiers. It would be better if he never finds out. That's all I can hope for.

"I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals."

"Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld."

Sarcasm. Right.

I swallow back a sharp reply and pursue gravely: "Those seals are being broken by _Lilith_."

Now I have his attention. I saw in his memories that he met the first demon that Lucifer created from an infant soul, before the Apocalypse, thousands of years ago.

"She did the spell," Dean breathes out, wide-eyed. "She rose the witnesses."

My soldiers never had to confront Lilith directly. Sly and cautious, she always attacked the abandoned seals while we were out fighting. The rise of the witnesses was one of them.

"And not just here," I say in a low voice. "Twenty other hunters are dead."

"Of course. She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us."

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor."

Just like Azazel, Lust or all the other demons I've come across, Lilith masters the art of irony. I believe she went after hunters knowing perfectly well that we were protecting Dean Winchester. To mock us, to show us her presence by preying on the righteous man's equals.

"Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

"It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"Why break the seal anyway?"

Here we are. I take a deep breath and slightly spread my wings behind my back.

"Think of the seals as locks on a door..."

That's the easiest explanation for Dean to understand it. There's no need for me to detail the seals' mechanism and the energy they hold. Century after century, more seals have been built up to secure the Cage, and those protections would be impossible to break if only I had an army as large as, for example, Leoc's – honestly, does plankton require five thousand soldiers to idly gaze at it?

"Okay. Last one opens and..."

I look up into the righteous man's shadowy dream. I remember vividly my elder brother, towering and radiant with light amidst the smoking ruins of Creation and the wandering souls of the exterminated Humans. How powerful he was. How beautiful. And I remember his words, how he threatened the Humans...

I take one step forward to face Dean and look into his eyes.

"Lucifer walks free."

His green eyes widen in disbelief and shock.

"… Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

I can't help but smile. There are so many things that Dean doesn't know...

It is surprising to find that after all he has been through, and with the rare privilege of standing in the presence of an Angel, Dean keeps doubting what he sees and hears.

Most Humans don't need quite as much to believe.

"Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me."

Dean grows very quiet, looking shaken. My mission is accomplished. I should leave, return to the battlefield, lead my troops. But I can't help but continue:

"Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer..." he whispers.

I silently nod, oddly satisfied. Even if the hierarchy doesn't acknowledge my work, and Humanity will never come to know about the sacrifices that my Garrison has made, at least the righteous man will know about it.

"That's why we've arrived," I say, still staring at him unblinkingly.

He moistens his lips, regaining some confidence.

"Well... bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."

Now he's leaning against the furniture, just like I was before. Instinctive primate mimicry. Just like it has been for millions of years.

The way he's smirking and the sarcastic look in his eyes remind me of Zachariah. I can feel myself stiffening.

"We _tried_. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost."

My frustration grows when he rolls his eyes and lets out a demeaning sigh, not even bothering to look at me. My anger turns into a cold rage, freezing my Grace in my veins.

It's like I'm back in the meeting room, mocked by the division heads who all seem to find my failures so unexpected. But under similar conditions, even the best soldier would have failed!

"Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?"

My body moved on its own, driven by the torrent rushing through my veins. I can endure the lack of consideration from my superiors, older and more experienced than I am, and I can bear my own soldiers' disregard, but I won't stand the humiliation of being sneered at and looked down upon by a mere mortal!

Ephra, Miz and Pmox, my brothers who have been by my side since the dawn of my existence, didn't die in indifference so that this ape could behave as though we were his servants!

"There's a bigger picture here."

I take a step further, still staring at him, radiating power that pulses through the air. Even though I have to look up at him in this form, I know that in reality he would barely be the size of an ant in the palm of my hand. Such a puny little thing.

If it weren't for me, he would still be in Hell, about to become just another lowly demon. He should be bowing down and be grateful, instead of judging me. I don't have to explain myself to a Human in my charge.

My hands close into fists with the humiliation, rage, helpless anguish that has driven me since this war began. No - before. Ever since Anna betrayed us.

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in."

There is some satisfaction I take in the terror filling his eyes as I pull myself out of his mind and disappear from his dream.

I open my eyes into reality and rise above his still sleeping form. Htmorda is looking at me blankly, his hands in his pockets and as motionless as a stone.

"Castiel? Is there anything I can-"

I shut Htmorda up with a single glance and spread my wings. With a strong flapping, I disappear, taking my anger with me.

* * *

My favorite Paradise's warmth wraps me in light and children's distant laughter. Standing a few meters from me, the Human is staring up at his kite twirling in the sky, and there is innocent wonder brightening his face. This is the first time that I'm visiting this place in my new body. The trees, shrubs and benches seem much higher, more colorful and detailed than from above.

I carefully fold my wings back and try to appease the turmoil troubling my Grace. I can't face the hierarchy, my army or the demons like this.

What was I _thinking_?

I made a hollow threat on Dean. There's no way the chain of command would let me send him back to Hell when we still need him. Never before in my life have I felt such anger. I overstepped and took advantage of my superiority on a Human. This war is affecting me more than I thought. Not only do the lives of my closest brothers and sisters depend on me, but also the fate of Father's work of creation and the Garrison's reputation in Heaven.

I look up to the blue sky and watch the colorful square slice through the air like a bird. Sometimes it hovers, then dives and spins, caught in a frenzy. My fists are unclenching.

If only I, too, could stay here forever...

"Castiel."

I lower my head and turn around to face a male vessel with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in red and white stripes.

"Samandriel."

The young Angel smiles at me, and on his true face glowing through, his three eyes, green and lined with silvery filaments, sparkle softly. The grass muffles my little brother's footsteps as he walks to me, until he's standing by my side. His vessel may be shorter than mine, but I find comfort in his presence. His human eyes look up to the sky, shadowed by his cap. I silently do the same, and my Grace seems to calm down and to harmonize with his, which hasn't happened ever since Anna fell.

My coat is gently swaying in the breeze and the kite is swirling high above.

"What are you doing here?" I finally say in a murmur, keeping my eyes fixed on the kite.

Samandriel lets a few seconds pass before replying.

"Humans are amazing, don't you think? So imaginative and unpredictable, beautiful and tragic through their mistakes and thirst for life... They deserve to be saved. They deserve all of your efforts and sacrifices."

I lower my head and frown. Samandriel is staring at me unblinkingly with a thoughtful smile.

"I knew I would find you here, Castiel." He tilts his head to the side, his smile fading. "I heard what happened at the meeting."

I avert my eyes, humiliation cutting deep into my Grace.

"Don't take criticism personally, Castiel. Your opponents speak loudly, and your supporters quietly. You know, Ophaniel and Ecanus offered to send part of their troops to join the Garrison."

"It doesn't matter. Six of my soldiers were killed in action."

"Hearing that they were dead pained me. But I fear Fate is working against you. Apparently this Apocalypse has been written a long time ago. We all have our roles to play, but yours is most certainly the hardest to embrace."

His voice sounds sincere, and I ponder his words. This isn't the first time we've been purposely ordered to do something that is bound to fail. Convincing Pharaoh, saving Lot's wife only for her to be turned into a salt statue, Camael's human life... It shouldn't surprise me anymore. Is it because now I am a General that I find it so hard to accept? Is it because my brothers died that I'm having doubts? Is it because the fate of Humanity is at stake?

Or is it just misplaced pride?

I frown, bemused, and squint at my brother.

"How do you know about this?"

This is not the first time I have caught Samandriel knowing far more than expected from his age and rank.

"I'm a good listener. Our siblings often come to me to talk."

All my anger fades away like mist in the wind. A faint uneasiness replaces it as I watch the autistic man's outline cut out in the light. Only now do I realize how unfair I've been to Dean, and how I've failed my duties. A General should know how to show composure, and not let a mere mortal's words upset him.

Especially since the righteous man is in the same position as I am. A pawn on the chessboard of God and Fate. Except he is unaware of it, deluded by an illusion of freedom.

As for me, I have known from the very first day that I'm only a weapon. Nothing more.

* * *

The back of the skull hits the stone with a dull sound, while under my fingers light gushes out from the possessed Human's mouth and eyes. I rise up and turn around without another look at the body burned from the inside. Swiftly, I reach out and grab two other enemies' heads to smite them too. The hideous and distorted face vanishes instantly, and the victims' features return as they die. Their choked cry fades away and the bodies collapse, raising dust from the arid ground. My coat swings around my legs - then, my wings unfurl and I flap them vigorously, dashing off to appear just behind a demon whispering evil incantations to send us back to Heaven. Did he think we wouldn't spot him?

The nape of his neck is moist under my hand and stiffens when, with a quick impulse, my Grace rushes into the possessed body, pouring into his veins to purify and destroy all trace of evil in the blood. Quite radical, this process ends the Human's life as well, but it's clean and efficient. I am the Garrison General, and in times of war, I cannot afford to empathize with casualties.

When the body falls to the ground, I take a long look at the battlefield.

The blue sky overlooks this landscape of rocks and dust bathed in sunlight. There are only a few hundred demons left still active. Between the three of us - Zedekiel, Hester and I - we've already wiped out more than half of their army, and now corpses are littering the ground. Others are falling into the ravine cutting a deep, shadowy gap through the mountain. In the melee, Zedekiel is busy smiting demons one by one and fighting off those getting in his way - although a bit chaotic, his movements are graceful and efficient.

I can’t see Hester though. Where is she?

I stride over to the still unbroken seal, exasperation pulsing through my Grace. I had explicitly ordered her to stick close to the seal to stop the demons from digging into the ground. The sacred salt crystals - remains of Lot's wife's body that Rachel once petrified - cannot be dug up. I don't know how the demons found out where they are, but I won't let them get hold of them.

"Castiel, _watch out!_"

I whirl around and here is Hester, blade in hand, hurling herself at a demon that was about to attack me. I stand still and watch her smite the enemy and then face me with a fierce gaze as she rises to her feet. Her long pale blond hair is all disheveled.

"Hester. Your orders are to protect the seal, not me. I can take care of myself."

My sister sulks and averts her eyes, nervously turning her blade in her hand.

"I know you can." With the tip of her shoe, she pushes the lifeless body lying at our feet. "I was keeping an eye on the seal. Everything's under control."

_ **A little help, anyone?!** _

That was Zedekiel’s voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him getting outnumbered and knocked to the ground. There is a demon yelling an incantation over his face, and intense light is starting to pour out of my brother's mouth and eyes.

Hester makes a move to go, and I stop her with one look. My blade slides out of a vein, piercing through the skin of my forearm and falling into my hand.

"No." I unfurl my wings. "Stay close to the seal. That's an order."

With a flap of my wings I storm into the battle, grabbing the demon's hair in my fist to throw him away, making him fall into the abyss while I slay the enemies around me. Zedekiel scrambles to his feet, out of breath, and blindly slashes his way through the demon crowd. Panic is making him lose all strategic insight.

"Lilith says hi!" a demon hisses to my ear.

I find myself violently flung backwards, and fall into the abyss. I get a last glimpse of the battlefield before I dive into darkness: about thirty hideous demons, their hands stretched out towards me, eyeballs as black as ink.

I can hear Hester screaming and my coat fluttering as I fall, until my wings snap open with a soft rustle, bringing my fall to a halt. I flap them and rise back to the battlefield. There's only about a hundred demons still alive, and I have yet to see any of them wielding an Angel's blade or any kind of mysterious weapon that the Heaven Library wouldn't know about. It seems like we have already won, terror is spreading through the enemy ranks, but I have to be ready for anything that might happen. There are other battles being fought out there right now, and no doubt Lilith and Alastair would rather strike my isolated or less powerful soldiers.

A fist, thrown with supernatural strength, hits me in the face with a loud crash, but it still doesn't make me flinch or even blink. I slowly turn my head to face the demon who's staring at his broken wrist in disbelief, and in one fluid gesture, I thrust my blade into his chest. His body collapses, skin flickering through agony as the possessed Human's life fades along with the demon's. I stifle any sympathy I may experience and wipe the blood off my blade, eyes lowered on this empty, inert corpse lying on the ground. An unavoidable sacrifice. Not the first, certainly not the last in this war.

Still, I can't help deploring every single life killed in this war.

"They killed the leader!"

"Let's take off, we're fucked, there's too many of those celestial cunts!"

"Have you lost your minds? Don't you know what Alastair does to deserters when he finds them?!"

"We can't leave this place until the bloody seal is broken!"

"Let's get the fuck out of here! I'll take the torture over being dead!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! Better dead than under Alastair's scalpel!"

"Keep your positions, you morons!"

Taking advantage of the confusion, I signal Hester to join us and surround the demons. And then we proceed to exterminate them one by one. Once there are only a dozen of scared demons left alive, they attempt to flee from their vessels, but we slap our hands over their mouths to smite them without any escape.

Silence descends on the barren ground littered with corpses, and I nod at my two soldiers in satisfaction.

"Good work," I say. "The seal is safe and secured."

I gaze at the horizon where blue sky melts into the shimmering water of the Dead Sea. From this high up in the mountains, there is a magnificent view of the salt lake, which has shrunk over the centuries and whose southern part is used by humans as a salt marshes.

There is a warm breeze gently blowing through my coat and ruffling my hair. Hester walks over to my side and touches my shoulder with her fingertips to brush my tie back in place, as it had been thrown off in the heat of battle. Hesitantly, her hand lingers there for a second, then withdraws.

"Seems like yesterday when we were raining fire and death on Sodom and Gomorrah..." She looks up wistfully to the sky, her blond hair gently waving in the wind. "… and when Siosp was killed for his insolence and poor judgement," she says in a quiet breath, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I pinch my lips and let my blade slip back into my Grace. I don't like being reminded of my brothers who died. Thinking about Siosp or Camael is useless and only brings back haunting, troubling questions. Questions that I never had at the dawn of my existence, and that I should never have thought about.

Zedekiel steps to my right, hands in the pockets of his black, regulatory clothing - a suit suggesting authority and power in the current human society. Our vessels are about the same size, but his skin is milky-white and his blond hair tied in a bun.

"Siosp has always been way too dedicated to the very first mission we were given." He sighs. "Sometimes you just need to embrace change. Go with the flow. Clinging to the past and initial orders can be a bad thing." He gives me a hard look as though he's trying to make me understand something, then walks away, striding over corpses, wings tensed behind his back. "I will dispose of the bodies and write the report."

Confused, I watch my brother's lean figure moving away. There's something amiss. Zedekiel was obviously hinting at something, but I have no idea what.

There's a hand gently brushing against my arm. I frown and turn my head to meet Hester's gaze. Smaller in size, she looks up at me with wide blue eyes.

"Castiel... I... promise me you won't take our mission too personally, and that you'll think twice before turning down an offer."

I glance down at her hand as it slides up my arm and grips my shoulder, then at her true face showing through - her three pale grey eyes are as bright as the sky after a thunderstorm.

"What offer?"

My soldiers are acting very strangely. And Hester even more so than the others.

"Just… be careful. I fear for you, Castiel."

Feathers rustling in the arid air, and the warmth on my shoulder is gone.

I stand alone, gazing at the skyline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter** (should be updated in september… hopefully)
> 
> _"No matter if we win this war or fail, I will follow and support you until my last breath."_


	28. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s note:** My betareader **CloudFactory** is very busy with her job and her studies, and since I don’t want her to die of exhaustion I’ll give her a rest and just start updating the chapters unbeta’d for a while. I hope there won’t be too many typos or weirdly worded sentences! Feel free to notify me if you spot a big mistake and how to fix it.
> 
> **Previously:** Since they saved Dean from Hell, the Garrison soldiers have been battling the demons to prevent them from breaking the 66 seals and thus setting Lucifer free. But they're outnumbered and the hierarchy won't give Castiel additional troops. The seals are being broken one by one and six Angels including Ephra, Pmox and Miz have mysteriously died. Blamed by other division heads, Castiel has a hard time containing his anger. In addition to all this, some of his soldiers are acting oddly…
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 3**.

My feet are anchored to the ground, I couldn't move even if I were to put all my strength into it. My organs' vital functions are suspended and my Grace is rigidified in the veins and arteries, now as solid and compact as my blade. My entire being is resonating with Heaven, basking in the Divine Will, absorbing the flow of information through images and sounds. Everything unfolds in a myriad of colors overthrowing all notions of time, space and existence. Here and away, past and present cease to make sense – there’s nothing left but commands seeping into my Grace.

Everything around me is merely information on the edge of my consciousness - unimportant. There is a door slamming somewhere, the sound is muffled, like a thousand oceans away. The stream of Revelations ceases and my Grace fluidifies, flowing again into my blood and flesh. I blink my eyes open while my heart starts beating anew, and lower my head to meet the gaze of the Angel sitting on the chair facing my desk.

My sister is staring unblinkingly at me, legs crossed. Long blond hair is curling around her face - she's contained inside a woman in a white dress.

"Levanael? What are you doing here?"

A hint of a smile grazes her lips and she hands me a file. I take it, sitting down to leaf through it. It's her daily mission report, listing attacks by lower demons and coordinates of her locations and seal assignments.

"You could have just dropped it on my desk. There was no need to give it to me in person."

"I'm aware. I just wanted to talk to you." She tilts her head and a hair lock glides from her ear to her neck. "You seemed like you couldn't see or hear me. Were you receiving Revelations?"

I close her report and file it with the others.

"Yes."

Receiving Revelations is an operation that instills the Divine Will into the Grace, which temporarily paralyzes it. This is why it is advisable to be alone for the process.

But I don't understand. The new orders I've just been given are absurd. Absurd and cruel.

I have to bring Dean Winchester back to the past, before he was even born, so that he can see what Azazel did to his parents and have a better understanding of Sam's situation and what is at stake. At least this I can understand - Dean only believes what he can see, so he needs hard evidence in order to acknowledge reality in a situation he is confronted with. But... to let him believe that his family's fate can be changed, while ensuring that the curse does hit his parents? Is Adam and Eve's bloodline doomed to be forever targeted by Destiny through the ages?

"Castiel."

I look up, startled. I thought she had already left, but Levanael is still there, staring at me with the same earnest gravity she has always had since the day we were created - it never wavered, not even after Siosp's or Camael's execution.

"Is there anything else you wanted to say?" I say, standing up.

"Yes. There is something I need to tell you, brother."

I take a long look at her. None of my soldiers have called me _brother_ since my promotion, and certainly not with such confidence. This simple word's gentle undertones stir up memories in me that I promptly stifle back.

There is no time to waste. If the information I have been given is correct, I will be stuck in the past on observation duty for several days. This will give me time to listen to whatever Levanael wants to tell me. There is nothing in the orders stating that I can't bring a soldier with me on this mission, and it would be safer not to get close to Azazel on my own - I don't know if the demons were already in possession of their weapon at that time.

"I must leave on priority mission immediately." I spread my wings in a rustle of feathers. "Come with me, you'll talk to me on the way."

Levanael gets up swiftly, unfolding her ethereal wings. Her pure white feathers blur into the brightness of her dress.

the next second, we appear in a pitch-dark hotel room. It seems like it's night time in this hemisphere. Over the last two thousands years, the Garrison has spent far more time in Heaven than on Earth, and there are times when I lose track of the time passing here on Earth, of the sunrays' angle with the planet's rotation. And yet it's my duty to keep track of this, all the more so since when Humans decided to quantify time in days, Thursday was assigned to me. In theory I am somewhat responsible for all Humans born on a Thursday, but concretely, protecting them has never been under my jurisdiction. It's merely an empty honorary title, just like Camael's designation as Angel of Joy was.

"Castiel? Levanael? Is there something wrong?"

Htmorda's hoarse voice rises behind us. Htmorda, always devoted to the role I gave him. I glance over my shoulder at his winged shape merged into a dark corner.

"Htmorda. Where is Sam?" I ask when I notice that one of the two beds in the room is empty.

"He just walked out to meet his demon. At 425 Waterman Street, to be more precise. I was just about to send my report to you."

He steps forward heavily, and I raise my head to meet his gaze. My brother's human body is bulky and surprisingly hairy for a Human - there are thick black curls sticking out of his shirt - and when he steps out of the shadows, the ray of artificial light filtering through the half-open curtains highlights the clear size difference between my two soldiers. Standing by his side, Levanael might look delicate and weak, but I know them both to be excellent soldiers of similar strength.

"I need to speak with Dean. Your observation mission is temporarily on hold. You can go with the others to watch the seals, and I'll let you know when you can come back."

Htmorda glances at Levanael with a strange look in his eyes and gives a stiff nod. With a silky rustle of his wings, he's gone in the blink of an eye. I look over to the bed where the righteous man is sleeping, and step closer. He's lying on his side, restless in his sleep: his eyelids are twitching, his eyebrows are furrowed and his breathing is labored.

"What is the mission about?"

I take a look at my sister whose wings are carefully folded behind her back, her hair ruffled by our flight. There is a blonde lock caught between her pale lips, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"I have to bring Dean back into the past, so that he can see with his own eyes what Azazel did to his parents. This will make him more likely to warn Sam off the demons when he returns."

Levanael tilts her head to the side doubtfully, but doesn't comment at all. She looks down at the righteous man and a soft smile grazes her lips as she sits on the bed. When she reaches out to pet his hair, Dean scowls and tenses, pushing his head further into the pillow while his jacket slips off his shoulder.

"I had been flung out of Hell before I could see him," my sister whispers. "So this is the righteous man. So much weight on such tiny shoulders..."

Her eyes turn cloudy and blank all of a sudden - she obviously just dived into Dean's mind.

"He's having a very bad dream," she whispers empathetically.

A bad dream? The one I stepped into was utterly dull, though. I wonder what kind of nightmare a mind like Dean's can possibly produce. I let my vessel slip into corporeal reality, then sit on the mattress, which sags under my weight.

"Wake him up," I order in a low voice.

There is nothing unintentional about this mission. The hierarchy intends to provide Dean with incomplete information, the plan is for him to bring his little brother back on the right path, so that we won't have to kill him. Technically speaking, this is a good thing.

Still, I don't like it.

It makes me uneasy to think that the hierarchy is probably doing the same with me. There's no doubt that lately I received incomplete and incorrect information myself. It wouldn’t be the first time. This is how Heaven works, even I don't tell my soldiers everything I know. The lower you are in the hierarchy, the greater the mystery.

Dean Winchester is just as enslaved to Fate as I am, except he has no idea.

A strangled gasp behind my back tells me that the righteous man has awakened from his bad dream.

"Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?" I ask with curiosity.

I turn my head to meet his gaze. In his eyes, shadows of sheer panic fade away, to be replaced by annoyance.

Still invisible to mortal eyes, Levanael stands up gracefully.

"He was reliving our raid into Hell," she says. "His memories are foggy, but the fear is still ingrained in his subconscious."

Dean sits up and moodily shoves off his jacket he was using as a blanket.

"What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want?"

"Listen to me. You have to stop it."

"Stop what?"

Levanael frowns when I reach out to place two fingers on the righteous man's forehead, pushing him into a deep slumber. He drops back down on the mattress with his mouth half open.

"You wanted me to wake him up just so you could send him right back to sleep?"

My sister's voice sounds somewhere between confusion and amusement. She materializes into physical reality too, her white dress brushing against the Human's motionless hand.

"I could have taken him right into the past without bothering to speak a word to him, but I figured Dean would be less disoriented when he wakes up if he understands why he's there. There was no rule stopping me from doing that."

Levanael lets out a crystal clear laugh.

"Quite the contrary, I think that your words will just make him even more confused."

I narrow my eyes.

"What do you mean? I think I have been very clear and to the point."

"I can't help but think that he didn't grasp any of it. Just a hunch."

I slowly unfurl my wings and steps closer to Levanael, who is watching me with a fond gleam in her eyes shadowed with blond eyelashes.

"Take the righteous man, Levanael. We're leaving at once."

She nods and lifts Dean in her arms effortlessly, then adjusts the leather jacket on his belly.

"When and where?"

"April 30th, 1973. Lawrence, Kansas."

* * *

Balthazar was right, time travel is so much easier in a vessel than in our true form. Still, I can tell most of my energy has been drained. It will probably take a couple of days for my Grace to fully recover.

"Now what?" my sister asks.

I lean against a tree and watch the righteous man walk into the bar where his father is, as I had planned.

"Now, we wait. And we get ready to interfere unnoticed if he alters events too much."

I look over at my sister, she's standing very still with her face blank and her eyes staring into the distance. Her vessel looks soft and thin, but the raw power radiating from her is building an aura of energy all around her. No doubt that mortals can't see it, just like they can't see our face and wings spilling out of our vessels.

"What did you want to tell me, Levanael?"

My sister blinks and looks at me, her face softening.

"Samandriel told me that you are having some difficulties with the hierarchy and your duties as our general."

I avert my eyes in shame. Why did Samandriel have to tell her this? I don't need my soldiers to have this impression of me. A General should be unwavering, stoic, unshakeable in his convictions. It is difficult enough for me to assert my authority over my siblings who have known me since our creation, so if they hear how the hierarchy treats me...

"Cas..."

A warm hand on my shoulder. I look down to meet my sister's gaze. She is almost one head shorter than I am, staring at me seriously, unsmiling. Her dark blue eyes are tinged with lightning tones, eyeballs filled with her Grace.

"General or not, you are and always will be our brother. There is no need to try to act like Anna or the Council members. You're not like them. It's not like you to use threats and fear to assert yourself. You don't need this, our loyalty is already yours. We follow and obey you, not out of fear, but because we care for you."

"Levanael..."

"No matter if we win this war or fail, I will follow and support you until my last breath."

I don't know how to react or answer to my sister's fierce gaze. My silence doesn't seem to come as a surprise to her, and she smiles at me as she withdraws her hand. Over her shoulder, I can see Dean walking out of the bar after his father, and Levanael follows my gaze.

"You should go and explain to him again what he's doing here," she says, arching a blond eyebrow.

I nod and in a flap of wings we appear together on the street corner. John Winchester walks right through us, since we are immaterial and invisible.

I bring myself into physical reality at the very moment when the righteous man walks around the corner, and he comes to a halt right in front of me, looking bewildered. I guess Levanael has a point. Judging by his confused look, he didn't quite grasp my instructions, I should give him some hints.

"What is this?" he asks, sounding somewhat breathless.

"What does it look like?"

"Is it real?"

"Very."

"Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans? How did I get here?"

I glance at Levanael who's watching our interaction, her head tilted to the side and her blond hair flowing over her white dress. She makes a short chin gesture to encourage me.

"Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion."

"Well bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!"

"I told you, you have to stop it."

"Stop _what_?" he exclaims, clearly losing patience. "What, is there something nasty after my dad?"

I dissociate myself from reality by becoming invisible again, and Levanael lays a somewhat cynical look on me.

"What?" I say in annoyance. "I can't possibly be more obvious!"

"Oh, come on! What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!" Dean shouts out loud, getting a few inquisitive glances from pedestrians across the street.

Levanael looks at the righteous man rushing to catch up with his father.

"You've done it now, look at the poor thing, you've upset him."

"It's advisable not to be too specific," I say as an explanation. "Dean is a skilled hunter. And if he attempts to kill Azazel now, it will be up to _us_ to stop this from happening. We're here not only to keep Dean safe, but also to make sure he doesn't stray off the time line. It's Sam he really has to stop."

Levanael frowns thoughtfully.

"Do you realize that at this very point in the timeline, we are in Heaven under Anna's orders? Pmox, Miz and Ephra are still alive. Have you ever considered that it would take so little to alter the course of events? If I could save Siosp and Camael..."

"It's forbidden," I cut her short. "We are the agents of Fate, Levanael. What is written cannot be unwritten. The consequences would be beyond our imagination. Besides, none of us is powerful enough to go back in time for more than a few centuries."

My voice is steady, but I'm merely stating what I've always been taught, what I already knew at the very moment of my creation. There is no choice or freedom for Angels. Nor for any creature on Earth.

"I know that," she says wistfully, gazing at the blue sky.

Only then do I realize that Levanael is probably the most loyal and reliable of all my soldiers. Like me, despite her regrets and hesitations, she has always placed orders before her own personal interests.

* * *

"Human methods of travel are awfully slow."

Deep inside, I really can't disagree as I gaze at the nightscape moving at an insufferably slow pace through the car's window.

"And narrow," Levanael huffs. "My wings are sticking out."

I look over my shoulder. Looking awkward, my sister is stiff as a rock on the back seat, struggling and failing to fold her ethereal wings inside the confined space smelling of leather and gasoline. My wings also extend outside of the sheet metal frame, but I don't particularly mind.

"Why do you care? Your wings are not even in this dimension."

"Still, I don't like it."

She stares at the righteous man's nape of the neck with her deep blue eyes. He's driving, silent and focused.

"Do you think his plan could actually work?"

I stare also at Dean, studying his profile – there is a crease between his eyebrows and his jaw is visibly clenched. As I feared, the Human quickly figured out what it was all about, and promptly drew up a plan to kill Azazel with the resources available at the time.

"To retrieve the Colt to kill Azazel... Yes, it might work."

I remember talking about this weapon with Balthazar after Azazel's death, which had made quite a stir in Heaven when Dean shot him dead. According to Balthazar, the Colt can only kill monsters and demons, and Azazel, while originally a Cherub, was too tainted and had nothing celestial left in him. If Dean does use the weapon to kill Azazel now... Everything would be different.

I'm still staring at Dean when my sister leans forward to try to catch my gaze.

"Castiel... Think objectively for a moment. If Azazel were to die today, the righteous man would never sell his soul, he would never go to Hell, he would never break the first seal, and there would never be a war. Pmox, Miz and Ephra won't die, and Lucifer's Cage can never be opened! Isn't that our priority mission, after all? To stop the Apocalypse?"

I avert my eyes and straighten my back on my seat. The concrete road ahead is brightly lit by the headlights, slowly and tediously unfolding before me.

Technically, Levanael isn't wrong, but...

"We were not sent here to do this. The hierarchy trusts us to do our duty, we have to be worthy of it."

"But..." Levanael pauses to make herself more comfortable in the back of the car. I can see in the rear-view mirror that she is now slouched down on the seats, with her wings tucked in front of her. Her left wing extends all the way through Dean's body who is totally unaware of it. "Why?" she sighs. "Why does the hierarchy waste a whole time travel to show your Human what we could have directly told him?"

"Do you remember Thomas?"

"Saint Thomas? Camael's apostle?"

"Yes. It was particularly hard to convince him of his resurrection, and I had to use my best illusions. Dean is just like him. He only believes what he can see."

I can hear Levanael sitting upright and feel her gaze on the back of my head.

"You're missing the point, Cas'. What I mean is, the hierarchy could have just sent us to kill Azazel in the past instead of sending us under-staffed into a war against demons. It almost looks like they _want_ the Cage to open..."

I pinch my lips and feel my wings tensing behind my back. Levanael is saying out loud what I have been trying to keep to myself since this mission began. Watching Dean struggle to save his family is painful to me, knowing that if by any chance he succeeded, I would have to stop him.

Rather than replying to my sister, I take myself into physical reality, drawing a surprised inhalation out of Dean.

"What are you doing?" asks Levanael in puzzlement.

"So what? God's my co-pilot, is that it?" comes Dean's low voice from my left side.

I throw him a sharp glance. What does he mean? Is he blaspheming again?

"I think that's sarcasm, Castiel," Levanael informs me.

Oh. I look back at the road as I ponder over my soldier's words. I can't bring these valid comments to the hierarchy, since we are in the past. And even if I could ask them, I already know that I would be given the usual answer: _orders are orders_. All my life, I've never obtained a satisfying answer to my questions when I dared to voice them.

I wonder what the righteous man would do in my situation, considering that he is in a very similar situation.

"Well, you're a regular Chatty Cathy. Tell me something. Sam would have wanted in on this, why not bring him back?"

"You had to do this alone, Dean."

The orders were specific. The objective is to make Dean see that his brother is on the wrong track, so that he will be willing to get him back on the right path. Sam was not allowed to be present.

"And you don't care that he's tearing up the future looking for me right now?"

"Sam's not looking for you."

Clearly, Dean did not grasp the basics of space-time travel. Time does not continue to flow along at our starting point. By the time we get back, barely a fraction of a second will have passed.

"This confined space is really uncomfortable," Levanael grumbles behind my back.

I can hear her stretching and vigorously shaking an ethereal wing that slice right through Dean again, so loudly that the sound partly slips into physical reality, and then she folds it back moodily.

"Alright, if I do this, then the family curse breaks, right? Mom and Dad live happily ever after, and – and, Sam and I grow up playing little league and chasing tail?"

"You realize, if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam – you'll never become hunters. And all those people you saved, they'll die."

I say these words, my eyes locked on my sister's reflection in the glass. She frowns, looking up with surprise.

"Castiel..."

Her voice is barely above a whisper.

God is not answering my prayers, the hierarchy declines all my questions, so why wouldn't I seek advice from Dean? He is, after all, the righteous man of prophecy, and he too faces a situation where he has to make a critical choice.

What would he do in my place?

"I realize," Dean answers softly.

I turn my head towards him in disbelief. Could it be Humanity's typical irrational selfishness, putting their own interests before any others' or even their own species'?

"And you don't care?"

"Oh, I care. I care a lot."

Dean looks at me, and his eyes are filled with determination... but also with genuine, aching empathy. So very human.

"But these are my parents. I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't."

I understand now. This is not selfishness, but filial love. The righteous man values his family above all else, and if I were to apply his reasoning to my own situation, I would have to disobey and strive to prevent my brethren from dying in this war. Or just be obedient to my Father as I have always been. I no longer know what to think.

This is all pointless. Heaven is literally one single family. Human standards don't apply to my situation.

I shift myself out of the earthly reality, confused.

"No, not if I can stop it."

The righteous man's words trail off as he glances in my direction, unable to see me, and then focuses his attention back on driving, clenching his fingers on the steering wheel. There is a strained silence, filled with the humming of the car.

"You won't find your answer from the righteous man's mouth," says Levanael softly. "He's only a Human. He doesn't know what's at stake and can hardly see further than his own interest."

She's right. For Dean, it's all about choosing between his family and strangers, so his feelings easily dictate his actions. As for me... it is not feelings, but Faith and devotion that have always guided my steps. I could save my soldiers, stop the Apocalypse before it even happens... but that would imply disobeying my Father, betraying my very nature and the trust placed in me, and putting my own interests above the plans of Destiny and all of Heaven. Showing vanity by believing myself to be wiser than God. That would make me worse than Lucifer...

To commit the worst of all sins.

"What would you do in my place, Levanael?"

"I don't know. But no matter what your decision is, I will follow you."

I look down wearily at my hands. I wish I, too, could blindly rely on someone higher up, just as I had always followed Anna. But ever since I was promoted to the head of the Garrison, nothing is that simple anymore. The choice I need to make is throwing me into confusion, digging a dreadful pit inside of me. What am I supposed to do? If only there was someone to show me the way...

Millions of years have conditioned me to turn to Anna for guidance. But Anna is no longer there. It is now up to me to lead others. And I'm the one they look up to, waiting for answers. But how could I possibly make a choice when all I long for is to mindlessly obey?

"Cas..."

When a hand touches my shoulder, I turn my head to face Levanael, staring deep into her dark blue eyes lined with blond eyelashes. She leans forward so that her nose is just inches away from mine, and her breath brushes over my skin.

"I'm worried about you. You have the same look in your eyes that Camael had before he rebelled."

I promptly avert my eyes to watch my own reflection in the glass. Jimmy Novak's face returns a dark look to me.

"Do not fear, sister. I won't get lost like he did."

* * *

With my eyes set on Azazel, I put my foot on the Colt lying on the ground to prevent it from being used to shoot the demon. As for Levanael, she's standing next to the righteous man to ensure his safety. There are screams, and I stand still as I watch the tragedy unfold before my eyes, not at all surprised to see Azazel stab Dean's grandfather to death while he still is in possession of his body. A body that is now nothing more than a walking corpse. I already knew that Samuel Campbell and his wife Deanna were to die tonight. It is written. So when Deanna lunges to try to grab the Colt, I press down harder on it and extend a hand to slow her down, while Levanael restrains Dean by the shoulder to prevent him from rescuing his grandmother. Only after Deanna is dead and Azazel is out of reach and on his way to make his pact with Mary do I take my foot off the weapon and my sister releases the righteous man.

Invisible and silent, my sister and I witnessed the events from close up, monitoring now and then to make sure that they went according to plan. Destiny is ruthless, and we have been its efficient tools.

I have knowingly worked to make happen the tragedy that destroyed the Winchesters. That sent Dean into Hell.

"Castiel..."

I silence my sister with a hand gesture, my eyes fixed on Dean who, Colt in hand, is running out of the house, desperately trying to save his family again.

"Now I understand more clearly the purpose of this mission.," I say in a murmur. "Dean wasn't the only one being manipulated."

Suddenly I see clearly what the real objective of my mission was, and it's not what I was told through Revelations. The objective was not to show Dean the events of the past, or even to uncover Azazel's secrets. No. The hierarchy sent us to the past so that we could bring Mary and Azazel together, so that the demon could lay his claim on her. Dean, in his desperate efforts to save his family, has unknowingly cast the curse on the Winchesters himself. This is what could be called irony of fate, I suppose.

But Dean was merely a puppet in my hands. All I did was follow orders, but had I opted for insurrection, this family's tragic fate could have been avoided and the soldiers of the Garrison would not have died. With my own hands I forged Dean's Fate and brought misfortune upon both our families. In a way, I threw him into Hell myself, when I believed myself to be his savior.

I lower my eyes as Levanael stares at me intensely.

I never saved Dean in Hell. All I did was harvesting what I had sown in the past. This rescue mission that I led for forty years, filled with dedication and a sense of Duty... it was all for naught.

This isn't the first time I have actively acted as an agent of Fate, and obeying can be unpleasant at times. I remember experiencing regrets about the extinction of the Neanderthals, about Adam and Eve's death, watching Cain's tears, or looking down at that small boat during the Flood, or when we had to cast death as a punishment for Pharaoh's unwillingness to obey. My list of regrets has only grown longer and longer over the millennia.

But never before had a mission's success carved such a hole inside of me.

* * *

I slowly lower my hand, which I kept outstretched towards the Colt to stop it if Dean had ever dared to shoot the demon. In my peripheral eye sight, John is coming back to life in Mary's arms, next to Samuel Campbell's empty carcass that Azazel has just vacated. Everything happened exactly as Fate intended. The fallen Cherub successfully obtained Mary's consent by murdering John and then promising to bring him back to life. A vicious and disloyal process to which even the vilest demons do not normally stoop.

Instead of the embraced couple, the righteous man's devastated expression is the focus of my attention. I cannot describe it. The sorrow in his eyes is so deep it is beyond my comprehension. Something unique to Humanity, something I will never quite be able to understand.

The suffering Dean is experiencing results from my loyalty to my Father. Suddenly, all arguments justifying my actions are meaningless. There is nothing left but those eyes bright with tears, and the pain I indirectly inflicted.

To make the Human I raised from Hell suffer is the last thing I would ever want. But his Fate is sealed now, it's too late, far too late. Regret and compassion won't change a thing. The chance to sabotage the mission and stop the Apocalypse has passed and won't happen again. I fought the temptation like a faithful Soldier of the Lord, but I can't bring myself to be proud of it. I put all my trust in God's Plan, and I pray that I did the right thing. Surely my Father knows what He is doing, and these injustices are part of a larger scheme that I am not aware of.

With a beat of my wings, I close the short distance between me and Dean Winchester and appear into physical reality, Levanael remaining silent and invisible at my side.

I lay my hand on Dean's shoulder as he turns to face me. When our eyes meet, his gaze only fuels my sympathy and guilt. While I spread my wings and reality melts around us, I allow my Grace to seep into his body and bring him into a deep dreamless sleep. His green eyes grow dim, soon clouded by his eyelids.

Time travel never is a pleasant experience. It consists of moving back in time as well as crossing great physical distances in order to reach the precise coordinates, taking into account the rotation of the planet around the sun and its correct axis on itself, according to several variable equations. Equations that grow more and more complex and unpredictable the further back in time we go. The slightest mistake, no matter how seemingly insignificant, might make me appear in space, or worse, in a planet's core. Basically, traveling back in time requires a mental and physical effort that draws heavily on my vital essence - honestly, it would be easier for me to just carry myself to another planet. I do not know if it is advisable for a Human to stay awake during such a delicate process - or if there are effects of time distortion and space flight to be feared. So, I have deemed it preferable for him to be unconscious.

The three of us appear back in the hotel room, just a few seconds after our estimated starting point. Dean instantly collapses, sound asleep, and I grab his waist with an arm to prevent him from falling to the ground. His inert body sags against my vessel, head resting on my shoulder, until I carefully bring him down on his still warm bed.

"Cas..." whispers Levanael's voice behind me.

I lean over Dean to slide his leather jacket off his shoulders and take it off him. His eyelashes are fluttering and his breath brushes over my face as I stare at him unblinkingly.

"Little brother..."

I glance over my shoulder et my sister, cautiously laying Dean's head on the pillow before placing his jacket on his body, just like we found him.

"We have the same age, Levanael."

"I was created about an hour earlier than you. After Anna, I am the oldest in the Garrison. Siosp was the youngest."

"One hour means an insignificant amount of time in our lives."

"Not to me. I felt your creation in my Grace." Her smile is somewhere between fondness and teasing. "You're my little brother and nothing will ever change that. Not even your title or rank."

I turn to face my sister. She's watching me with her head tilted to the side.

"You may leave," I say. "You did a good job."

"Don't blame yourself for his misfortune, Castiel. You were just following orders."

With these words, she opens her wings wide so that they fill the entire room and even extend into the walls, then she disappears in a silky rustle of feathers.

I stand there for some time, staring at the wall, with my back to the righteous man. The quiet sound of his breathing fills the room, mingled with distant footsteps in the hotel hallway, and the muffled rumble of cars on the street.

I have to stay and complete my mission. I could wake Dean right now, but... I need a moment of silence and reflection in this time of war. My Grace is drained out.

I turn my head to study the face of Adam and Eve's descendant. In a way, I do acknowledge and share the grief he expressed in his eyes, but Dean seems to be experiencing it on a completely different scale than I can't even comprehend. We celestial beings are unable to develop such feelings, which are so important to Humans throughout their brief existence. We were never created for this.

The righteous man's eyelashes flutter as he frowns. How the soul brings to life this organic mass of flesh, blood and skin covering human skeletons will always remain a mystery to me. Under normal circumstances, I would have been content to admire my Father's work of art, but not today.

By raising the righteous man from Hell, I thought I was saving him and offering him a new life, a second chance, but it turns out that all I did was play my part in bringing tragedy upon his family. Tragedy orchestrated by God down to the last detail. Both Hell and Heaven are striving to deceive him and make him suffer. He will probably not know peace until he dies. But then, will he have collected enough happy memories to rest for eternity? I hope so. Dean deserves to find serenity and felicity.

More than ever, the Lord's Plan is undecipherable to me. I hold on to my devotion, not without difficulty.

I avert my eyes, looking up at the wall in front of me instead. My brethren's whispers, flowing into my mind continuously, are not enough to quiet my thoughts.

Could it all have gone differently? No... It would have required me to disobey a direct order and fail a mission – the consequences would have been disastrous and I would have brought shame on the Garrison. There was nothing I could do. Dean had to go back to the past to sentence his family to death by trying to save them. The hierarchy used Dean's love for his parents to seal his Fate, without him even realizing it. It was a cruel order. An order I disapprove of, and even find degrading. For not only did the hierarchy neglected to inform me about what was at stake, but even _Azazel_ knew that we were there.

There is a sharp inhale behind me, a rustling, then the bed creaking that informs me that Dean has woken up.

"I couldn't stop any of it." His voice is hoarse and heavy with guilt. "She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it."

The least I can do is to ease the guilt off the righteous man's heart. The sooner he understands that every element of his life was orchestrated by Fate long before he was born, the less he will suffer. Fighting is pointless. Hoping is vain.

At least Dean doesn't seem to have realized his role in his family's misfortunes.

There is no choice. No freedom. Everything is just an illusion, a veil that reveals the ugly truth the higher one is ranked in the celestial hierarchy. I don't even dare to imagine what the Archangels and Father know that I don’t.

I can hear Dean get up in a creaking sound of bed.

"_What_?"

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean." I finally turn to face him. "All roads lead to the same destination."

And I know now for sure that the war I'm fighting is already lost. If it is written that the Cage shall be opened and the Apocalypse shall descend again upon the Earth, that is how it will be. I understand now why the hierarchy never backed me in my mission. Why my soldiers are dying. Why I am losing.

The Apocalypse is coming, and there is nothing I can do but accept it and place my blind trust in Father. The Father I have never seen or understood. And in Dean, who will be the only one who can stop Lucifer, even though I still don't quite see how that is possible.

"Then why'd you send me back?"

"For the truth. Now you know everything we do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snarls, clearly on edge.

I pointedly glance at Sam Winchester's empty bed to make him notice his absence.

"Where's Sam?" asks Dean with a concern in his voice.

"We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is _why_ – what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up."

Given the ugly reality that this mission has exposed for me, I can't help thinking that the hierarchy knows more about it than they pretend.

Dean's face hardens into a mask of determination - a soldier's expression.

"Where's Sam?" he asks again, but this time in a threatening tone.

"425 Waterman."

Dean glares at me and walks past me. I can hear him getting ready to exit the room. I hope his intervention will have a positive effect on Sam. I don't want to be the one to kill his little brother on top of having brought the curse on his family.

"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it." I turn to look at him to make my threat clear. "Or we will."

I hold his gaze filled with anger and terror. I know how deeply the righteous man is attached to his brother, and I can tell from his reaction that he will stop Sam, the boy with demon blood, whatever the cost. If Dean's role was to break the first seal, what is Sam's role? He's the last human with demon blood still alive on Earth, and the powers he's gaining must have some purpose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"How did it come to this, Uriel?"_
> 
> _"Things have changed."_


	29. Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Castiel is fighting the war against demons as best he can with insufficient resources, but his soldiers are dying, the hierarchy blames him for the Garrison's failures and seals break one by one. A mission sends Castiel into the past with Levanael and Dean, and he realizes that the Winchester misfortunes were planned by the hierarchy, and that he personally brought the curse on Dean. Overcome by doubt, Castiel is starting to question the orders he receives…
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 7**.

I mark the last page of my report on the state of the seals with my Grace, snap it shut and reach out to grab another file from the pile that keeps growing taller on my desk. I have no idea how Anna managed to balance all the paperwork of the job and dealing with subordinates, missions and fieldwork. I keep falling behind in my duties. But perhaps this is all because of the upcoming Apocalypse.

I narrow my eyes to read the sheet of paper in my hand, which begins, as required by procedure, with about a hundred lines praising the Lord. It is Htmorda's report from yesterday, which I read through quickly, just to make sure that Sam Winchester has not gone back to drinking demon blood and that the righteous man is unharmed. Hunters' lives are so often hanging by a thread.

Three knocks on the door pull me out of the extensive description of endless battles against ghosts, shapeshifters and other creatures of the Mother of All. Holding my palm above the file, I sign and close it sharply.

"Come in."

The intruder waves his hand to close the door behind him without touching it. More than three weeks have passed since I came back from Hell and the new recruits were assigned. Now I know the names, vessels, strengths and weaknesses of these two hundred new soldiers under my command. And under the human shell with the short black hair and fringe - Andrew Milligan, physiotherapist - I recognize the Angel in charge of batrachians. Outstanding warrior, ruthless and efficient.

"Izraz. What are you doing here?"

Htmorda's report joins the thin pile of completed files. Izraz is staring at me unblinkingly as he walks up to my desk.

"I have an information that should be of interest to you."

I nod to incite him to pursue, and seize another file that needs to be approved before being sent to Administration.

"I'm listening. Keep it short."

"One of my seals has been broken while I was helping Virgil who needed backup. And the demons who destroyed my seal were arguing about an Angel killing weapon."

I look up sharply, slowly putting back my file. The part about the broken seal isn't surprising - demon attacks might have become less frequent, but they have also become more violent and better planned. I have no idea how do demons manage to know exactly which seal is left undefended and when, but that's yet another matter of concern. Overall, forty-three seals have been broken. The easiest and weakest seals. Now, those that remain take hours, days, sometimes years of preparation. It will no longer be as easy for demons to reach them without us knowing.

What sparks my curiosity is...

"Did you say a weapon to kill us?"

Izraz nods and raises one hand, palm up.

"You are certainly aware that I'm in charge of batrachians and that I have mastered the ability to see and hear through the ones I have created myself."

To prove his point, he materializes on his palm a toad, which stares at me, swelling its throat with a loud croaking sound. Izraz carefully lays his creation on my desk.

"I have used this ability in our seal protection mission by positioning one of my proteges next to each of the seals under my responsibility. This gives me insight and no demon can come close to my seals without my knowledge. They are my eyes and ears."

The batrachian bounces up on a pile of files, still staring at me. Its throat swells again loudly in my silent office. I break eye contact with the creature and refocus my attention on my soldier.

"Clever. That didn't keep your seal from being broken, though."

"Indeed. I saw the enemy attack through its eyes, but I couldn't leave Virgil to face the demons alone. There were too many of them."

"And you heard the demons talking about a..."

"... about a weapon in their possession that kills Angels in a definite way. I'm positive, that's what they said."

Now that's a weight off my shoulders. This confirms that Baradiel was wrong. The demons are to blame, no one else. All I have to do now is to get the information from Alastair or Lilith, to seize and neutralize this weapon.

The toad croaks just when a notification rings in my Grace, alerting me that I have Revelations to receive urgently.

"Thank you, Izraz. You may leave."

My soldier spreads his wings and disappears immediately, leaving his batrachian on my desk. I share a long look with it. Its eyes are glassy, and there's something about them that is making me uncomfortable.

I decide to ignore it, and close my eyes to let the flow of commands wash over me. All reality fades away. All there is left are orders and Duty, vibrating through my entire being. Images and sounds fill my holy spirit, carrying confusing and unusual instructions. A crucial seal is endangered, right in the heart of a city - not a desert, an ocean or a mountain, as is often the case. More than a thousand innocent lives are at stake. And... the orders are to do whatever the righteous man commands. Dean Winchester will have to decide what happens to the city - one word from him, and I will have no choice but to tell Uriel to destroy it.

Without the slightest explanation to rationalize this strange decision, the stream of Revelations drains away, and I recover the sensations of my vessel in which my Grace fluidifies and flows freely again. Confused and with my wings spread wide, I open my eyes again, and find Balthazar casually sitting on the edge of my desk, poking the croaking and jumping toad.

"Ah, welcome back. Were you receiving Revelations?"

I resignedly try to put some order on my desk.

"What is the reason for your coming, Balthazar?"

"You mean I need a reason to pay a visit to my favorite little brother, now?"

I won't bother to grant him a reply. Instead, I pick up the toad and hand it over to him.

"Leave, I have work to do. And get rid of this for me, too."

Balthazar elegantly arches an eyebrow and takes the creature with a disgusted frown.

"Oh. One of the Frog's slimy little spies. Izraz keeps planting them everywhere, it's so annoying. One of these days, I'll stick one up where the sun never shines."

Smiling, he ruffles my hair with the tip of his wing and flies away in a rustle of feathers, taking away the unwelcome batrachian.

Once I am alone, a new notification stirs my Grace, and I clench my fists in irritation when I find out I got a warning for violating quite a few of the rules. Clearly, the hierarchy strongly disapproves of my decision to assign a Guardian on my own authority to Dean Winchester, because that's a high-level function that can only be given to a high ranked Angel - a rule that has apparently existed for a millennium and that I had no knowledge of. The notification invites me to take on the role of Guardian myself from now on, and postpones my advancement in the ranks by a century. I have already way too much work to do as it is, it's absurd to add such a heavy responsibility to my many duties!

Let's leave this for now, I have to focus on my new mission. Uriel has to come with me because he may have to destroy the city.

** _Uriel, come to my office, right now._ **

Even though I have held his soul in my hand, bathed in his memories and rebuilt his body from scratch, I am unable to predict what Dean Winchester's decision will be. Will he choose to sacrifice a thousand lives of strangers to save his species?

I shut my eyes for a moment, praying, pleading to my Father. This war has already caused too many unnecessary sacrifices. All I can do is hope that the righteous man won't make me give the order to destroy this city. I have no desire to add the lives of these innocent people to my list of regrets and orders that I have reluctantly obeyed.

I am aware that compassion is inappropriate in times of war, and I have no idea what decision my Father would consider to be right. But I can only pray that Dean will show the kind of mercy that the hierarchy never once displayed.

A flap of wings.

"Castiel." That's Uriel's voice, deep and warm as always. "How may I help you?"

I turn my head to my brother, he's looking at me with a hint of a smile, hands deep in his pockets.

"I just received Revelations. We have a mission together, Uriel."

Uriel raises his eyebrows, his smile broadening.

"Oh. Just like old times, hm? What is the mission?"

I avert my eyes. I know my brother well enough to sense that taking orders from a Human will most likely offend him.

"You're going to hate this."

* * *

"I hate this."

With a frown of disgust, Uriel looks around in the hotel room currently rented by the Winchester brothers. There are clothes on hangers, and an open bag resting on a chair.

"This place reeks of monkey bodily fluids."

I squint and smell the air too. In addition to all the organic scents that this room has collected over the years, there is something else much harder to detect.

"Not just that," I say in a low voice. "It smells like sulfur and power."

I walk past Uriel to brush the faded wallpaper with my fingertips. My hand slips into the ephemeral parallel reality, just enough to penetrate the wall structure and pull out a small bag of tanned leather.

"Sorcery," I whisper.

Sorcery is quite a new phenomenon. It has been around for five or six millennia at most, resulting from pacts made by Humans with demons like Samhain who taught them spells. Born out of power lust and from the darkness of human hearts.

Uriel chuckles.

"Looks like your pets already managed to piss off Samhain's follower."

"Which means they are on her trail. Maybe they've already killed the witch?"

Should the Winchester brothers have already eliminated the witch, our mission will no longer be relevant, and this seal will be secure for many years to come. That would be excellent news.

"You think too highly of these puny creatures, Castiel. I say we nuke this city before the seal breaks, and call it a day."

"This is exactly what we need to make Dean believe we're going to do. But should he order us otherwise, we will have to obey him."

Uriel snorts and puts his hands in his pockets while I undo the spell in the bag and put it on the bedside table between the two beds.

"Obey a mortal. I think it's the most absurd order I've ever received. In my entire life."

"Dean is not an ordinary mortal."

And I can only hope that he will stand up to us, that he will speak out just like he did in our last encounter. The righteous man is brave and arrogant, almost recklessly so. I pray that my threat to send him back to Hell was not enough to crush his insolence, which had irritated me so much three weeks earlier.

It is strange to think that not so long ago - after the Neanderthals went extinct - I would have watched the Humans perish unblinkingly and without a shred of pity. Perhaps even with satisfaction, since at the time I had hoped for their demise and did not deem them worthy of survival. Everything is so different today. I have grown to love Humanity, and I no longer wish to see my Father's finest works of art destroyed.

The sound of a car pulling over can be heard in the distance.

"He broke the first seal, what a great Human indeed!" Uriel sneers. "And he is supposedly meant to defeat Lucifer should he be released. Do you actually believe that? A stupid little monkey, defeating an _Archangel_? Nonsense. How could he?"

"I don't know. But it is written."

I look up at my brother. He's staring at me unblinkingly, unsmiling.

A deep kind of sadness overwhelms me as we share a look. We used to be so close. Is this new gap between us due to my rank as Garrison General?

No... Uriel has grown distant since Camael's death. Perhaps earlier still, when Siosp was executed. This isn't new.

I suddenly miss our quiet complicity and long for those peaceful times when my brother would come to spend time with me and we would watch the crowling fish on the ground. It seems so far away now...

"You’ve changed, Uriel," I say in a whisper.

Uriel doesn't bat an eyelash and keeps staring at me, his lips pressed together. Then he slowly turns around and steps heavily towards the window, as though his vessel is hindering his movements. His wings are tucked up in his back, the ethereal tips of his feathers grazing the tiled floor. Pale daylight filtering through the curtains makes them glisten.

I pensively sit down on one of the two beds, distant memories rushing back to me, reminding me of my early centuries, at a time when everything seemed so simple and easy.

"Do you remember..." A smile grazes my lips. "Do you remember that fish that ended up hanging on the top of a tree because it fought out of an eagle's claws?"

I get no answer, and I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together.

"And the Tower of Babel? Balthazar won his bet against Zedekiel." I let out a broken laugh. "And the goat?"

"You've changed as well, Castiel," Uriel’s voice cuts me short. "We all have. Those times are over and won't ever come back."

My smile fades away and I grow silent, staring at the nape of his smooth and powerful neck.

"Your Humans are coming. Htmorda is with them. Stop dwelling on the past and get ready to play your part in this pretense."

I can't bring myself to reprimand my brother for his blatant disrespect of my rank.

"How did it come to this, Uriel?"

"Things have changed."

There is nothing left for me to say.

Behind me, I can hear the door opening and Sam Winchester's voice calling out.

"Who are you?!"

"Sam, Sam! Wait!" That’s the righteous man’s voice. "It’s Castiel. The angel."

I slowly stand up and walk over to the Winchester brothers who are followed by Htmorda as their shadow, still invisible to mortal eyes. I'm instantly mesmerized by Sam's face. I hadn't yet had the chance to see him with my own eyes, face to face, in full light. Neither he nor any of the other children who had been contaminated by Azazel's blood. They all died before I could see them.

Fascinating.

"Him, I don’t know," says Dean as he glances at Uriel, who hasn’t stirred a limb yet.

"Hello, Sam."

The Human with demon blood is taller than the righteous man, but the most striking thing about him is the dark aura he radiates, and his face... It is not a demon's face, no. It doesn't look like a possessed Human's face either – for these ones, the demon's features are overlapping, like a thick, slimy mask. In Sam Winchester's case, I am unable to tell apart the line between Human and demon. In millions of years of existence, I have never seen anything like it. The expressions on his features are shifting: amazed and smiling for a second, then distorted into a demonic and evil sneer. Pale skin lined with black veins, eyes sunk into their sockets and there are shadows hollowing out his cheeks.

An unique creature, whose human nature is totally intertwined with demonic putrefaction.

"Oh my God..." Sam breathes out. "Er – uh – I didn’t mean to – sorry. It’s an honor."

He hastily puts away his gun as he walks up to me. There is a faint smell of sulfur coming from him. Not like a demon's, but close enough to make my wings clench behind my back.

"Really. I – I’ve heard a lot about you."

He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it indecisively. By his side, Htmorda raises an eyebrow, looking back and forth at Uriel and me.

Is it advisable to touch a Human with demon blood? What would happen if I were to attempt to exorcise the demonic part in him? I suppose it would kill him. If a cure was possible for these children, we would probably have received an order to do so decades earlier.

** _I guess I should leave now, right?_ **

Htmorda sounds uncomfortable, glancing nervously at Uriel. He looks uneasy too. This isn't like him.

_**You may go**_, I reply without opening my mouth.

I don't have to tell him twice, Htmorda immediately disappears, looking almost relieved to do so. His duty as a Guardian is officially mine from now on anyway.

Sam is staring at me with his captivating, shifting face, his hand still held out to me. I finally decide to take it. The contact does not trigger any kind of reaction, which is a relief. The skin is warm and smooth, completely normal to the touch.

"And I, you. Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood."

I lay my other hand on top of his, watching with growing curiosity his altered features, neither human nor demonic, and his expressions, which never cease to shift between surprise, respect, hatred and ferocity. I guess his aspect would be much more hideous and warped if he were still drinking demon blood.

"Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities," I congratulate him.

"Let’s keep it that way," comments Uriel with a commanding voice.

Like many of my brothers in Heaven, Uriel views Sam Winchester as an abomination, suspicious and bound to the enemy by his tainted blood. As for me, the uncommon condition of this direct descendant of Cain pokes my interest and fascinates me more than it sparks any kind of animosity. Sam is a victim of Azazel first, and the righteous man's brother.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles. Who’s your friend?" asks Dean.

I gently let go of the young Winchester's hand. I keep my eyes fixed on Sam's twisted face, entranced, while I reply to the righteous man.

"The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it? "

Sam seems lost - I'm only just starting to make out his true facial expressions under the distortions caused by his demonic blood.

"Why?" Dean snaps back aggressively.

I take my eyes off Sam and finally turn my head to look at Dean for the first time since he walked into the hotel room. He looks smaller, standing next to his brother. He's frowning and his jaw is clenched.

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we’ve located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?"

"No, but –" says Sam, agitated.

"We know who it is," Dean continues, raising his eyebrows and forcing a smile on his face.

I wouldn't know whether his tone is smug or impertinent.

"Apparently the witch knows who you are too." I walk over to the bedside table and show them the hex bag I pulled from the wall, whose spell has been deactivated. "This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or both of you would be dead."

Dean's smile is gone, and he's averting his gaze. Seems like he can't think of a clever retort this time.

"Do you know where the witch is now?"

The two brothers share a look.

"We’re working on it," says Dean.

Which means that all hope of smoothly saving the seal is lost.

"That’s unfortunate," I say as I look over to Uriel who stands still like a statue.

I must carry out my mission, tell Dean about the destruction of the town, hoping that he will be bold enough to stand up to us.

"What do you care?" says Dean with his usual nerve.

Looks like Uriel is just going to let me handle the whole conversation. I guess he's not too keen on talking to Humans. Or maybe he resents me for stirring up the past. After all, as a General, this is my duty. Anna usually was the only one to speak to the Humans in person, and I never had that opportunity myself until I pulled Dean Winchester out of Hell.

I turn my head to look at the two Humans again - it seems like Sam doesn't share his elder brother's inclination for insolence, at least.

"The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals," I say.

"So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

Uriel's deep voice rises instantly in reply.

"Lucifer is no friend of ours."

"It’s just an expression," Dean flatly explains.

I need to get this mission over with. Praying that Dean won't make me kill more than a thousand innocents whose deaths will weigh as heavily on his conscience as mine, I walk closer so I can read the feelings through his eyes.

"Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is, we’ll gank her and everybody goes home."

Well, had it been so simple, the Garrison would have won the war long ago. Dean's suggestion cannot be considered an order. The mission's objective is clear: we must obey the righteous man's orders, whatever they may be, or destroy the city if he gives us none. It's not that easy to direct the conversation to lead him to give us a clear and precise order, without revealing what his role is in this mission.

Why does it have to be so complicated?

"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she’s cloaked even our methods."

"Okay, well we already know who she is," says Sam. "so if we work together –"

What a shame that Sam is not part of the equation. If _Dean_ were to order us to work with him, we would have to obey.

"Enough of this!" snaps Uriel.

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" asks Dean, irritably.

Uriel finally turns around and I cast him a warning glance. I know my brother's bias. He has always favored radical methods and scoffed at sophisticated strategies. And large-scale destruction to pound the enemy is one of his greatest satisfactions. I'm convinced that he intentionally interrupted Sam to prevent Dean from agreeing with him and possibly giving us the order that I'm hoping for. He just wouldn't stand working with them.

Uriel hasn't had a chance to destroy anything for thousands of years, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's itching to unleash his destructive power.

I don't condone this inclination of his, yet I've never spoken out.

"This is Uriel," I say to introduce my brother. "He’s what you might call a… _specialist_."

Uriel heavily strides forward, his outstretched wings spreading through the room's walls.

"What kind of specialist?" Dean asks warily.

I share a long look with Uriel.

_**Let’s get this over with****, Castiel, **_ his growling voice echoes into my head. _ ** You're only delaying the inevitable.** _

Uriel is right, of course. I really don’t want to have to watch this city fall into ashes, and it's holding me back.

"What are you gonna do?"

Dean's voice takes my eyes off my brother's three purple eyes, floating in a glowing mist in front of his vessel's face.

"You, both of you, you need to leave this town immediately. "

"Why?" asks the righteous man in a demanding tone.

"Because we’re about to destroy it."

I meant to watch how he reacts, but I can't hold his gaze any longer. It makes me uncomfortable to betray Dean's trust and deceive him even more than I already have. I pray that he will show the compassion that I have so long sought from above, in vain.

"So this is your plan, you’re gonna smite the whole friggin’ town?" Dean blurts out.

"We’re out of time," I declaim, using the most neutral voice I can muster. "This witch has to die, the seal must be saved."

"There are a _thousand_ people here," Sam intervenes.

"One thousand two hundred fourteen," says Uriel with obvious delight.

"And you’re willing to kill them all?"

There is indignation mixed with disbelief in Sam's voice. But his opinion is not what we need. The orders are clear: we must follow Dean Winchester's orders, no one else's.

"This isn’t the first time I’ve… _purified_ a city," Uriel says flatly.

I remember walls of blazing fire, raining ashes, the smell of death and massive explosions blasting away all life from the ground. Uriel almost single-handedly destroyed Sodom – all we did was assist him, really. Also, his power devastated a large portion of this continent during the last Apocalypse. Though not comparable to an Archangel, Uriel is probably the most lethal Angel in Heaven.

Destroying this little town will be child's play for him.

"Look." I turn my attention back to Dean, hoping to get the reaction I need from him. "I understand this is regrettable."

"_Regrettable__?_" Dean repeats with barely concealed sarcasm.

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?"

"It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here."

Objectively, this is true. Destroying the town would save the seal for sure. But I would like to avoid such a sacrifice. What Samandriel said still rings in my head. If he speaks the truth, that the Apocalypse day is written, then this war and all my efforts are pointless. If Lucifer breaks free, Earth will face consequences just like in the past. And these Humans, this town, these innocent souls... everything will perish.

Why should we bring their last moments of peaceful life to an early end, if Humanity is doomed to face a new Apocalypse anyway? Why add this extra burden on the righteous man's shoulders, when he has already endured so much and will have to suffer even more in the future?

I don’t know what to think anymore. Is it selfish and foolish of me to wish to spare lives that are already lost? Just so that they can live a few more months or years in happiness and ignorance?

"Right, cause you’re bigger picture kind of guys."

This is most inconvenient. The righteous man keeps using sarcasm and criticism, and doesn't provide a solution. He still won't give the orders I need from him.

I move closer, staring into his eyes to make sure I can measure the impact of my words. I need to find the right words to trigger the required reaction from him, without revealing the slightest clue as to my actual intention.

"Lucifer cannot rise. He does and hell rises with him. Is that something that you’re willing to risk?"

Emotions I can barely identify are darkening the righteous man's eyes. He averts his gaze and the reaction I had hoped for doesn't come. No words come out of his mouth. Is he balancing the pros and cons and considering destroying this town?

It can’t be... He's known as a righteous man, surely he will choose to save the town... or won't he?

"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone." Sam, the boy with demon blood, is the one giving the answer that I wanted to hear from Dean's mouth. "Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die."

As for Dean Winchester, he seems to have lost his usual overly hung tongue. Perhaps he will second his brother's wise proposal? All he would have to do is _repeat_ what Sam just said!

"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys," says Uriel with obvious disgust.

So this is it, then. I expected more from Dean. I thought I had sensed in him virtue, purity of soul and selfless compassion, in spite of what he endured and inflicted to others in Hell for four decades.

I failed my mission. For lack of an order from the righteous man, I will have to give the destruction order to Uriel.

I have to accept this. Once again, a human city will be wiped out to remove a threat. But this time, the order will come from me, and I will bear the burden of guilt like never before. All Uriel is waiting for is my approval to unleash his destructive power.

"I’m sorry, but we have our orders."

"No, you can’t do this!" Sam exclaims, sounding desperate. "You’re _angels_. I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy!"

My Grace is moving slowly in my vessel's veins as I share a glance with Uriel, who looks halfway between amusement and sourness.

The youngest Winchester's words have no effect on me. They're useless, coming from him. From the righteous man's mouth, they could have saved this town.

"Says who?" says Uriel, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I feel empty. I’m tired of all of this. What's the point of hoping? There is nothing to hope for anymore. The Apocalypse is nigh, and this town is about to get a first taste of it. All I can do is to honor my rank and my Garrison by obeying orders. By clinging to what's left of my Faith in Father's Plan.

I might as well get it over with.

"We have no choice."

"Of course you have a choice!" Dean snaps back. "I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

I can feel my wings tensing behind my back, but I do my best to keep my gaze steady and not to react. Oh yes, I have. I have questioned an order before. Several times, even though I've never expressed it out loud. It's a shameful, slithering secret hidden deep inside of me. A secret that I will never be able to reveal, even less now that I have responsibilities, soldiers at my command.

Humans have this annoying inclination to see blind obedience as a lack of bravery or strength - and Dean's tone certainly implies this - even though obedience is a vital part of our essence, the very reason for our existence. Would admitting my... _doubts_... be enough to gain the righteous man's trust and complete my mission?

No. Out of question. Uriel's piercing gaze is on me, vigilant and inquisitive. My brothers would never understand. And still... doubt is a repulsive sin, of course, but... my doubts do not in any way hinder my loyalty and devotion. Obeying despite these haunting interrogations requires even more loyalty and devotion. Being a _hammer_ was so much easier, in the old times...

"Look, even if you can’t understand it, have Faith. The Plan is just."

"How can you even say that?" says Sam indignantly, baffled.

I turn to look at Sam's distorted face, sunken eye sockets, dark veins and shifting expressions.

"Because it comes from Heaven, that makes it just."

There is a self-assurance in my voice that I haven't experienced for thousands of years. Ever since Camael's death, to be precise. What would the Winchester brothers think if they found out that we are involved in their family's misfortune? Without my intervention, Azazel would never have set his sights on their mother. We are to blame for their misery and for the upcoming Apocalypse, as agents of Fate.

"Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves."

Anger builds up in me as I look at Dean's disdainful face. He had been raised by his father like a soldier, almost like an Angel of the Lord. I saw it in his memories. Just like me, he has always obeyed without question - I thought he would relate.

"Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?"

I can't tell what flashes through his eyes, but what he says next gives me hope.

"Well sorry boys, looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?"

Uriel's deep voice draws the righteous man's attention off me, and I turn my head too to glare at my brother. There is a smirk on his vessel's lips and he's ignoring me, eyes fixed on Dean, who's walking to him with confidence.

"No, but if you’re gonna smite this whole town, then you’re gonna have to smite us with it, because we’re not leaving."

_**Look at him, look at your puny Human**_, Uriel’s voice echoes through my head. **_So arrogant and threatening, as though an insect like him had the slightest chance against us. Pathetic._**

"See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs."

_**Uriel**_, I say directly into my brother’s mind. **_The righteous man chose to save the town. We must obey him._**

His derisory laugh rings inside my head.

** _He didn't order us to do anything. How long do you plan to stand here, waiting for him to say the words you're so eager to hear?_ **

"So you wanna waste me?" continues Dean, to Uriel's apparent silence. "Go ahead, see how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself."

Uriel is no longer smiling and doesn't seem amused at all. His patience is clearly running out.

"Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me," Dean retorts defiantly. "Then we’re back to the same problem."

I look unblinkingly at the back of Dean's head. This is so frustrating. All it would take is a few words from him to save this city, and I have no way to make him understand that.

"I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something. "

_Compensa_ _ting? _ _ For what? What does he mean? _

"We can do this." The righteous man walks up to me with such authority, worthy of a General. "We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

He seems so self-assured. His eyes into mine are unwavering, and his voice tone suggests an order that won't take no for an answer. _F__inally_.

"Castiel! I will not let these –"

Without taking my eyes off Dean, I raise a commanding hand to silence Uriel and remind him of his rank.

"Enough!" Then, to Dean, "I suggest you move quickly."

I open my wings while Dean swallows and nods, and fly away along with Uriel.

We appear in a park just a few hundred meters from the hotel where the Winchesters are staying. There is a breeze rustling through the tree leaves above us.

"One more seal lost to us," spits Uriel as he sits heavily on a bench. "That was worth dragging him out of Hell!"

I cross my hands behind my back and look down at him, but he stubbornly keeps staring ahead, his wings floating through the bench and diving into the ground behind him.

"Nothing is lost yet. They might be able to stop the invocation in time and save the seal."

Uriel gives off a dismissive sniff, when a child in disguise - as is customary at this time of year, it would seem - holds out a small orange bucket full of candy to us.

"Trick or treat!" sing-songs the chubby redheaded child.

He looks just like Rzionr Nrzfm's vessel, but younger. He's wearing some kind of see-through helmet encircling his head.

"Get out of here," Uriel snarls, glaring at him.

A threatening and crushing aura of energy erupts around him, and the human child opens large, scared eyes and runs away on his short legs.

"Calm down, Uriel."

Uriel leans back on the bench.

"_Calm down__?_ Do you plan to stop the Apocalypse by standing idly by while a seal is being broken before our very eyes?"

I look back at the dressed up Humans walking in the park and the children laughing and happily chasing each other. There is the same kind of quiet joy in the air that reigns in my favorite Paradise. And this peaceful landscape won't be burned to the ground, not today.

"The decision has been made."

Uriel scoffs.

"_By a __mud monkey_!"

Hairless apes, monkeys, primates... Uriel clearly has not intention of ever stopping to insult them.

"You shouldn’t call them that."

"It’s what they are, savages, just plumbing on two legs."

I cast him a warning glance. Has he forgotten what Michael said when we all bowed down before Adam and Eve? Father created Humans in His own image. To insult them is to insult the Lord.

"You’re close to blasphemy."

Uriel merely sighs, averting his eyes.

"There’s a reason we were sent to save him. He has potential, he may succeed here."

No need to elaborate. Uriel knows what I mean. If Dean Winchester proves himself today, he might be able to defeat Lucifer as well. It seems to me that this is the only logical explanation. Why else would the hierarchy want to have him face this situation, this choice? The righteous man's abilities as a soldier are being tested.

I sit next to my brother who tucks back his left wing to avoid touching me. In the past, he wouldn't have done that, and instead would have patted me on the shoulder with it, or wrapped it all around me.

"And any rate, it’s out of our hands."

"It doesn’t have to be," says Uriel flatly.

"And what would you suggest?"

"That we drag Dean Winchester out of here and then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map!"

I can feel my Grace freezing in my veins. _Disobedience_. Uriel is suggesting an insurrection.

"You know our true orders." I turn my head to look at him, trying my best not to let anything show on my face, even though my Grace is simmering in my vessel. "Are you prepared to disobey?"

Uriel stiffens and stares at me intensely, growing silent. Bright in the evening shadows, his true face looks both offended and hesitant. For a brief moment, some kind of odd exhilaration overwhelms me as I wait for an answer from my brother-in-arms, my oldest friend. Could he be dealing with the same hesitations and doubts as I am? What should I do if he happens to be in the same situation as I am? With him by my side, everything would be different. Less terrifying.

"Of course not," Uriel's deep voice rises in the silence.

I press my lips together as I watch a few children running by, while Uriel rests his chin on his crossed hands. He's staring in the distance, as though caught in a deep thought.

No. Uriel can't understand me and neither can my other siblings. The only ones who could possibly have been able to were Camael, Siosp and Anna. I’m alone.

* * *

The neon paints chairs and tables in red and blue. My Grace becomes fluid and I get my sensory efficiency back, making the music audible.

_S_ _oldiers passing by_

_Listening to the wind of change_

I fold back my wings in a rustle of feathers and take a look at the counter. I slide my hand on the wooden surface, trying to assess the new information I've received from Revelations and what it entails.

_The world is closing in_

_Did you ever think_

_That we could be so close_

_Like brothers_

What has just been revealed to me confirms my belief that Adam and Eve's bloodline is definitely cursed. Abel's death may have happened thousands of years earlier, the tragic fate waiting for Sam and Dean feels unpleasantly familiar.

I understand now. Uriel was right. Dean is nothing more than a Human, in no way able to defeat Lucifer. All he's meant to be is a weapon, a vessel perfectly suited to Michael's Grace, whereas Sam ... Sam will be Lucifer's.

The two brothers are intended to fight each other and one will have to kill the other. And I know how much Sam and Dean care about each other. At least as much as Cain and Abel once did.

My hand closes into a fist on the counter.

All of this has, apparently, been planned in high places for more than two thousand years. It is only my current rank and my new position as Guardian that allows me to be informed today, since I must protect Michael's vessel for the Apocalypse to come. I am bound to be deeply involved in the impending battle.

_The future's in the air_

_I can feel it everywhere_

_Blowing with the wind of change_

Uriel was right about this too. The summoning of Samhain marks one more step to Lucifer getting free. The Winchester brothers failed in their mission, for even though Samhain was finally sent back to Hell, the seal was broken.

I didn't get any clues and I still don't know what the hierarchy was expecting from Dean in this test. Was he supposed to choose to save the seal, or the town? And why even test a mere vessel? I once again fail to understand the orders I get...

The only order they gave me was to send a warning to Sam Winchester, who used his demonic powers to stop Samhain, even though we forbade him to use them.

I take my hand off the counter and snap my fingers to switch on the bar lights. There is some smoke in the air, but no one is there. The jukebox is quietly sizzling as I breathe in. It smells like blood, beer and peanuts.

_Take me to the magic of the moment_

_On a glory night..._

I ignore the music and lean against the counter.

** _Htmorda, Uriel, Zedekiel, come over here immediately._ **

I didn't even think of using the regular terms to summon my soldiers. I am fully aware that the Winchesters will go to Heaven when they die and that their sorrows will be greatly compensated, yet I can't help but feel sorry for Dean. Did I raise him from Hell only to throw the curse on his family and so that he could watch helplessly while Sam dies at his own hand, unless Lucifer murders him first with Sam's hand?

"Castiel? That’s an unusual place for a meeting."

Along with a flutter of wings, Htmorda's deep voice covers the music as he walks into sight, looking at the bar with narrow black eyes. Curly and thick on his squared face, his beard cannot hide the metal rings piercing his lip, nose and ears. The chain dangling from his belt makes a clicking sound with each heavy step. Next to him appear Uriel, then Zedekiel who brushes back a blonde lock of hair behind his ear.

"The meeting room 1050 has been booked for the entire year by Brap's division," I explain, staring at my three soldiers.

Finding out in the schedule boards that my meeting room was occupied was hardly a surprise to me. I remember Anna mentioning on several occasions that some division heads, and specifically Brap, were trying to anger her in similar ways. Never mind. I don’t need this room. Between the Apocalypse and my soldiers dying, I have bigger things on my plate and won't allow myself to be distracted by this childish nonsense.

"From now on, we will use human Paradises to meet up."

Htmorda frowns and takes a skeptical look around.

"And who this Paradise belongs to? I see no Humans here."

"We're in the Paradise of a hunter close to the righteous man, recently deceased."

"Oh!" Zedekiel cracks a smile. "It’s Ash, right? I hear he's giving a hard time to the section in charge of the Axis Mundi and managing Human Paradises. They keep finding him snooping around in places where he shouldn't be. Even once in the Eden Garden! I guess he's still wandering off."

"Zed, always the gossiping one, striving to collect and spread dirt all over Heaven. You just can't help yourself, can you?" Uriel chuckles, his voice dropping lower still. "I sure hope you know how to hold this tongue of yours on some occasions and on _some issues_."

Zedekiel's smile wavers under Uriel's icy gaze, and I decide to break up their eye contact filled with unspoken words. I don't know what happened between those two, and I don't care.

"I have brought you here to tell you what I have just learned from Revelations. The seal of the summoning of Samhain has been broken."

Uriel crosses his arms and sneers.

"I knew it! I knew it all along, Castiel, your _monkeys_ are not –"

"And Sam Winchester used his powers," I cut him short. "Zedekiel, you will give him a warning. The hierarchy is clear on that, he must no longer use the abilities of Azazel's blood."

"I can do it." All eyes turn to Uriel who's smiling coldly, radiating confidence and power. "And Zedekiel is fine with this," he adds dismissively.

"It's a mission that requires tact," I object tentatively. "You'd need to be calm and patient."

Uriel raises an eyebrow, looking offended.

"And you think I can't do that? Don't you trust me, Castiel?"

On his true face, his three purple eyes are staring at me intently. For a second, I remember my agony after being attacked by Camael, Uriel's arms around me, and these very same eyes filled with worry.

"Of course I do," I finally say, averting my gaze. "Zedekiel, you may go."

There is something I can't read in Zedekiel's face as he glances at me... is that pity? The next moment, he is gone, and I turn to Uriel.

"Uriel. You will handle Sam Winchester, but don't even think of laying a finger on him."

Uriel merely nods, spreading his wings behind his back. In one flap, he vanishes, leaving me alone with Htmorda whose human face makes him look surly.

"I guess I'm here to get back to my station with the righteous man."

"No."

I step away from the counter and walk over to the jukebox which keeps playing music, then come to a halt, joining my hands behind my back.

"All resources need to be focused on protecting the seals. Also, due to some new... _information_... I am now officially Dean Winchester's Guardian."

"Officially?" Htmorda narrows his eyes. "That had not happened since..."

"I know."

He was about to say Camael’s name. Under the circumstances, hearing that name is the last thing I want. Dean's fate may be regrettable, but I would _never_...

I shake my head in frustration to chase away these thoughts.

"These are the orders," I firmly say.

"And orders are orders."

Htmorda says these words automatically before flying away in a silky rustle. There’s only music now, and me.

Becoming the Guardian of Michael's vessel is a mission I should probably see as a great honor. A career opportunity, as Zachariah would put it. Instead, a sadness I haven't experienced since the Neanderthals went extinct invades me. This aching pain adds to the doubts plaguing me. Doubts I can't share with any of my brothers. They wouldn’t understand. They just can’t.

I can’t tell anyone, ever.

* * *

I appear in a flap of my wings in the park, standing near the righteous man who startles when he sees me standing right next to the bench he's sitting on.

"Fuck!"

I fold my wings while Dean sighs loudly and rolls his eyes, and walk to a bench next to his to sit down too. From the corner of my eye, I see him gazing at the activity in the park. His face relaxes and fills with serenity. JI look at the fallen leaves on the ground, listen to the birds chirping above us, the trees rustling and children's voices playing in the distance. This gentle late autumn atmosphere reminds me of my favorite Paradise. But the doubts weighing on my Grace and thoughts about the broken seal keep me from fully enjoying this beautiful scenery.

"Let me guess," Dean’s voice rises. "You’re here for the _‘I told you so’_."

"No."

The truth is, I have no official reason to be here other than my new mission as a Guardian. I have no information to share with him. I don't know why I came to him in the first place.

This is a bad idea. A very bad one. The doubts plaguing me more and more with each passing century are not right. And to reveal them to a mortal instead of requesting a rehabilitation like I should have done thousands of years ago would be a mistake. But...

I don’t know what to think.

"Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested."

"I am not here to judge you, Dean."

The harsh behavior I had to display in order to get the reaction I was expecting, as well as our previous altercations, probably gave Dean a very bad opinion of me, judging by the mistrust in his voice. But now I can finally talk to him with no imposed objective to achieve.

"Then why are you here?"

I look away nervously. Having a honest conversation with a Human is very disconcerting, but I believe that the righteous man deserves to know the truth. Or at least, the tiny part of the truth that I have not been ordered not to reveal to him. That's the least I can do, considering the tragic fate awaiting him. There is nothing forbidding me to tell him his role in the summoning of Samhain, and yet I can feel dread crawling inside of me.

"Our orders –"

"Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours –"

"_Our__ ord__ers_," I insist, "were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do."

Dean frowns and leans over to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Your orders were to follow my orders?" he asks incredulously.

I nod and try to explain from the little information I have received.

"It was a test, to see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say."

"It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive."

I look down and fail to hold back a smile. Yes, Dean Winchester is truly special. Most Humans would not have survived just one tenth of what he went through on Earth or in Hell. I suppose that's the least we can expect from Adam and Eve's descendant and the most powerful Archangel's appointed vessel.

"So I failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what?" The righteous man is staring straight ahead, at the children playing and people strolling by. "If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call."

With these words, he casts a defiant and sharp look at me.

I can hear in his voice the echoes of Camael's last words to me, and it stirs up a combination of longing and fascination in me. Dean may have lived only a few decades and broken the first seal that pushed the world into chaos, but there is a wisdom in him that I can't quite fathom. Everything seems so simple and clear when he voices his views on a situation.

Dean seems to misinterpret my silence and pursues with even more conviction, as if he were certain of my disapproval.

"'Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken, hell I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me."

"You misunderstand me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town."

"You were?" he asks dubiously.

How should I explain? If this situation had occurred a long time ago, back when the Neanderthals were living, I would hardly have cared at all if I had been watching a thousand Humans being obliterated.

"These people..."

I lean over too to watch the Humans walking in the park. A mother is holding a very young child by the waist as he takes his first steps, and a little girl who was running falls in the grass, rising back to her feet with a wince. I haven't had much time to observe the Humans living on Earth for the past two millennia - initially because of the interdiction to go to Earth, then because I lacked time after my promotion to the head of the Garrison - but they are still as beautiful, complex and fascinating as ever.

"They’re all my Father’s creations. They’re works of art."

I repress a sigh, determined to share my thoughts with the righteous man. His uncanny wisdom and insight might help me to have a better understanding of the situation.

"And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to Hell on earth, for all creation. Now that’s not an expression, Dean, it's literal." I look at him intently as I say these words. "You of all people should appreciate what that means."

Dean looks down, and for a moment, I can see a vulnerability written on his features that reminds me what it felt like to hold his frightened soul in my hand while I was dragging him out of Hell. And it is probably this moment of sincerity filtering through his usual mask of self-confidence and arrogance that makes me want to unveil myself too.

"Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"

"Okay."

"I’m not a…" I have to force the words out of my throat. Words that I have never spoken out loud, that I have kept buried deep inside myself for thousands of years. "… hammer, as you say."

The righteous man simply looks at me as I try to utter the most shameful and despicable words that an Angel of the Lord can possibly say.

"I have questions, I… have _doubts_."

I can almost feel the anathema ringing in the air and through my Grace. Suddenly, words flow from my mouth more easily at Dean's lack of judgment or shock. An Angel would have been appalled to hear me say this, and this quiet acknowledgement unravels something in me.

"I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here." I already broke the most important rule by voicing my doubts, I should at least warn Dean of what awaits him. He deserves to know. "But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t."

For me, basically, this is just a repetition of what I have been through many times throughout my life. With the difference that I am now in Anna's position for the responsibilities, and in Camael's for the mission of Guardian. Facing this Apocalypse will be much worse for the Winchesters than it will be for me.

I share a long look with Dean, trying and failing to stifle back my compassion. When he averts his eyes, I turn myself invisible and gaze for a moment longer at the life the Winchester brothers have preserved.

One last moment of quiet before going back to a war that is already lost.

One last moment of peace before Hell on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"Why are you defending him, Castiel?"  
"He's under my protection. I am his Guardian."  
"No... There is more... You like him."_
> 
> **[Author's note: The song in the second last scene is _Wind of Change_ by Scorpions.]**


	30. Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** The Apocalypse is nigh as more seals are being broken. Castiel finds out on a mission in the past that by obeying orders, he caused the tragedy the Winchesters went through and triggered even the Apocalypse. He starts wondering about the orders he receives, and goes so far as to confide his doubts to Dean who listens without judgment.
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episodes 9 & 10**.

The everlasting afternoon breeze of my favorite Paradise is making the kite swirl in the cloudless sky. The autistic man is controlling it with the same wonder he has displayed since the day he died, and that never will cease. The grass is still lush beneath my feet, the same laughter and distant chatter flows like a river's whisper. There's that same peaceful and joyful atmosphere. Nothing ever changes, here. Nothing except myself.

Today, I can hardly enjoy the peace and quiet of the place. I'm not alone under the warm sun rays. Slender and pale, Baradiel is standing there, staring at me unblinkingly. His vessel's face is set in that same melancholic expression frequently found on statues sculpted by Humans. Only the blazing glow of his true eyes is moving like lava. He is ready for action, just like me.

A rustle of wings lets us know of Samandriel's arrival, and he promptly strides towards us, folding back his wings.

"Castiel. Baradiel. My Cherubs are checking on all their soul-mate couples. They will report to us any attempt from the demons."

I nod at the young Angel dressed in red and white. He seems nervous, judging by the unsteady way he looks up at me. Although shaded by his cap's visor, his eyes betray how worried he actually is.

"Thank you, Samandriel."

"Are you sure about this, Castiel? The unranked Cherubs' work has never been a target before."

"I know from a reliable source that demons are actively hunting for a couple of soul mates to break their bond, and with their love, to break the seal. We must not let that happen."

Samandriel lowers his head, with his wings slumping. The last Angel created and the unranked Cherubs are not soldiers. They were not created for the battlefield and are not used to facing danger.

"Breaking such a pure bond is utter disgrace..." he says in a whisper.

A lock of dark chestnut hair slips out of Baradiel's bun as he spreads a wing. The vaporous end of his feathers brushes against Samandriel.

"Each of the seals symbolizes a sacred and divine element." His voice flows like warm honey. "To break even one seal would defile any living being to the last stage, would damn them in the most final way. Of all existing creatures, only demons are able to commit such sacrileges."

I can’t help frowning.

"Demons, _and_ Dean Winchester," I rectify.

Dean was the first to break a seal, and I still believe he can be redeemed. After all, he _had_ to break it since it was written, and he is working for Heaven now. For Destiny. Since the Apocalypse was written, the Winchester brothers are nothing but pawns like the rest of us, and their sacrifice will undoubtedly redeem every wrong they may have done. They will rest in peace in Heaven, just like Abel.

I try not to think about how lonely Abel's Paradise feels every time I go there.

Baradiel turns his head to arch an eyebrow at me.

"Lucifer made demons out of Humans, the only living species vile and ruthless enough to serve his dark agenda. Dean Winchester broke a seal and slaughtered thousands of innocent souls in Hell. The line between Humans and demons has always been ambiguous, Castiel, and your righteous man is no exception."

"Dean didn't know that these souls were innocent."

"Whether he was aware of this or not, in no way does it lessen the monstrosity of his actions or the pleasure he drew from them."

I can't think of anything to say, so I look up at the kite hovering in the sky like a lazy bird.

For the first seal to be broken, each of the souls tortured by the hand of the righteous man had to be innocent and pure. The demons had been preparing the Apocalypse for centuries, perhaps millennia, making pacts with naive or desperate Humans in order to hoard unsullied souls for this very purpose. I know from probing his memories and holding his soul in my hand that Dean ignores the gravity of his actions. He has no idea that he started the Apocalypse, and that the souls he ripped apart for ten years had not done anything wrong while they were alive. It is a burden on his conscience that I would like to spare him.

If I could, if it were not against my orders and in contradiction with free will, I would erase from his memory those years spent in Hell and all the pleasure he took in inflicting pain. The pleasure made his last ten years easier for him, but will be on his conscience until his last breath.

Baradiel is right. When I yanked him out of Alastair's claws, Dean had almost become just another demon. Evil had begun to corrode and poison his soul. Pleasure in cruelty is the first step that corrupts the soul forever.

The square of colorful canvas makes draws large circles. It flutters in the breeze, reminding me of distant memories of flying together with the Garrison with Anna as our leader, eyes riveted on her wings and glowing figure. Waiting for any of her commands.

"Samandriel!"

With a silky rustle of feathers, an unranked Cherub appears in a mostly naked vessel, dressed in a bright red bathing suit – clothing protocol only applies to high-ranking Angels, and Cherubs have never received any instructions as to how to arrange their vessels. Clearly in a panic, the Cherub throws himself at Samandriel and hugs him, burying his vessel's nose in his hierarchical superior's neck, whining loudly.

"Harry!" Samandriel briefly hugs him back. "What is the situation?"

"_Harry_?" Baradiel mouths, casting me a puzzled look.

The Cherub steps away from Samandriel and flings himself on Baradiel, throwing his muscular arms around him. Samandriel gives us an apologetic smile.

"His name is Hcnbr, but he likes to be called by the name of his vessel."

Harry finally lets go of Baradiel who had no more reaction a rock would have, and turns to me with watery eyes and wobbly lower lip. I don’t like this at all. The last time I met Cherubs, they... Oh no. I tense up, trying not to move back or punch the Cherub when he wraps his firm arms around me tightly, almost lifting me up out of the ground and shoving his wet nose against my ear.

"It’s awful!" he wails as he repeatedly rubs my back.

I press my lips together and stay stiff and stoic in his arms. His massive naked body squeezes against me in a mass of hard muscles. He keeps stroking my hair and rocking me from left to right, his beard tickling the skin of my neck.

"Brian and Susan were on their honeymoon after years of denying their forbidden love. I had worked so hard to bring them together... years of hard work... They're the perfect couple, my favorite! Their love is so beautiful, so powerful, so... you should have seen their wedding! So beautiful! I cried!"

"Harry," Samandriel says softly. "Can you please let go of Castiel and tell us what happened?"

The Cherub finally releases me with a long wet sniffle and turns to Samandriel, his wings shaking.

"Brian and Susan got on board a luxury cruise ship yesterday to sail around the world for their honeymoon, and I witnessed the demons possessing the entire crew, seizing my beloved couple and starting incantations..."

"It does look like what we’re looking for," I cut in a neutral voice.

Harry nods frantically. Samandriel's face hardens.

"Harry, bring us to the ship immediately," orders the young Angel. "Maybe we can still save Brian and Susan."

The Cherub wrings his hands and nods again.

"Yes, please save them! Susan is pregnant but hasn't told Brian yet and I was really looking forward to it!"

With these words, Harry spreads his wings - which are not as impressive as those of Angels or Archangels - and hurriedly flies away.

We all land in the middle of a storm.

Without our wings to keep our balance, we most likely would have fallen overboard. Rocked by raging waves, the cruise ship looks abandoned, and the rain is pounding the entire surface. The pouring rain doesn't reach our vessels shielded by our energy aura. It isn't night time in this hemisphere yet, but it's pitch black all around us, with only a few ominous lightning bolts to chase the darkness away. I take a brief glance at the sky and see that it is filled with black clouds moving into a swirling tornado whose eye is positioned just above the boat. Definitely the work of demons.

"They’re all inside!" Harry yells at us.

The stormy sea is swaying the boat around, massive waves crashing against the shell and washing down on the deck. Our vessels are unaffected by heat or cold, just sending us the information we need.

The Cherub rushes to a door and frantically turns the metal doorknob, to no avail, he barely manages to partially bend the metal as he pulls. He was not created for that. He's not a soldier. He may be stronger than a Human, but his strength is still insignificant compared to ours.

I push him out of the way and brush the door with my fingertips, blasting it off its gongs and clearing the path for us. Inside, the air is foul and heavy with sulfur and blood, getting more repulsive with every step we take. With Baradiel, Samandriel and Harry on my heels, I blast open the doors one by one with a mere wave of my hand without slowing down my pace for a second. My coat opens wide behind me and our footsteps echo through the corridors.

Focused on our mission, we walk in long strides towards a muffled sound deep down, unhinged by the raging storm making the boat sway even harder.

The last door explodes in front of my outstretched hand, and we burst into a sumptuous reception room where all tables and chairs have been piled up and stacked in a corner. There is a blood circle drawn on the floor with unfamiliar markings and sigils. It's all glowing, and in the middle of it a couple of bleeding Humans are fiercely and rabidly fighting with their bare hands... against each other. Laughing hysterically, there is a loud crowd stepping on corpses and surrounding them, and they all turn their heads, focusing on us eyes that are completely filled with black. Hundreds of viscous, demonic faces.

"Samandriel, Harry," I speak in a commanding voice. "Break the sigils and secure the couple. Baradiel, take the ones on the left."

I can feel the skin of my forearm splitting open, and the blade sliding out of a large vein to fall into my hand. My wings spread out as I dash to the right. When I slap my hand on a demon's forehead to smite him, while killing off another one by thrusting my blade into his stomach, a bullet violently rams its way through my skull. Jimmy's soul is screaming inside of me, and I quickly wrap my Grace around it tighter so he won't feel all of the pain. Blood is streaming down into my right eye and along my face, then down the collar of my shirt. I look up, dropping the two empty corpses, and see a demon in an evening gown standing on a golden balustrade. There is an evil grin twisting her hideous face and she's cackling, armed with a submachine gun. She opens fire again, and four more bullets come through my vessel, piercing heart, lungs and stomach. I frown as warm blood fills my mouth and drips from my chin.

Demons are all around me, holding knives, and more bullets pierce my flesh as I kill them one by one, methodically. As I tackle one of them on the ground littered with corpses, Samandriel's voice echoes in my head.

** _Castiel! We secured the couple!_ **

Good. Now I don’t need to be so careful anymore.

**_Cover their eyes! _** I reply, crouching in a pool of blood and surrounded by the enemy.

I immediately raise my bloodied hand in the air, blasting out a wave of pure energy from deep within my Grace. Flooded with light, the room trembles and instantly stops swaying, and it gets pitch black. I stand up and let my blade return to my Grace, scanning the battlefield with a critical eye.

Baradiel snaps his fingers, and the power comes back on, bringing back the artificial light into the boat. Standing there with his eyes wide open, Samandriel is holding Brian in his arms and covering his eyes. Next to him, Harry is fiercely clinging to Susan. The unfortunate Human's head is tucked into the Cherub's pectoral muscles, and his wings are wrapped around her possessively.

In a rustle of feathers, Baradiel appears next to me with his hands in his pockets.

"The seal is safe. This is a victory."

I look down at the hundreds of lifeless bodies littering the ground, with their empty and fuming eye sockets. The blood filling my eye stains my vision red. Apart from the couple of soulmates, no Human on the boat survived our attack.

The seal may have been saved, but the loss of so many innocents in the process makes the victory taste bitter. I walk over to the soulmates and come to a halt in front of them. Samandriel and Harry release them, and they fall to their knees at my feet, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Their faces are bruised, veins ruptured under the skin adding purplish colors. They are covered with sticky blood and open wounds.

I reach out to them and they flinch, clinging to each other in terror. Just like Adam and Eve did in the past, when the Garden of Eden was ripped off from Earth. I brush two fingers against their foreheads and all physical damage disappears from their bodies and from mine, and all our clothes are clean and undamaged again.

"Do you wish to forget?"

The two Humans look up at me with wide, tearful eyes haunted by what they endured. I don't know why I'm offering. I've never done it before. Not for Lust's victims, not for any Human. Not without a specific order.

For the very first time in my existence, I am giving a choice that I myself have never been given. Even if it's just an illusion, free will is a beautiful idea of my Father that I wish to honor. Even if only once. I want to do for these two what I can't do for Dean.

"Yes..." Susan chokes, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Yes, please..."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, god bless you!" Brian says, sobbing.

I can feel Baradiel and Samandriel watching me as I touch their foreheads again, erasing their horrific memories. They collapse to the ground, plunged into a dreamless sleep. I look up at my brothers. Samandriel is smiling at me with gratitude.

"Thank you, Castiel, Baradiel. I never realized how hard your work as soldiers is."

Meanwhile, Harry is kneeling next to the sleeping couple and stroking their hair tenderly.

I turn my head to Baradiel who is waiting for my orders, standing as still as a statue. I signal him to follow me by spreading my wings. The next moment, we’re back on the boat's deck. The dark ocean extends all the way to the skyline where the sun has already sunk down, but the last golden glimmers cast a shading of soft pinks and greens melting into a deep blue sprinkled with stars. An iodized breeze ruffles my hair and makes my coat flap. Jimmy Novak's soul is gently fluttering inside me, so fragile and yet so powerful.

"For a seal of this value, the demons present were surprisingly low in number and quite weak."

Baradiel has a point, there’s something off. We won this battle far too easily. This doesn't bode well.

"Probably a diversion," I say in a low voice. "We must have missed something much bigger. Whatever it is, the demons don't want us to interfere."

"Perhaps another seal?"

"Or it could have something to do with that weapon they use to kill us..."

Baradiel doesn't seem convinced by my theory and remains silent for a while before speaking again.

"Why give them a choice?"

I glance at Baradiel, then go back to gazing at the skyline like him. No hint of judgment or accusation in his words. Only confusion and curiosity.

"Because I could."

"I don’t understand."

I remain silent. I'm not quite sure to understand either. I can't say whether I showed compassion or complacency. Relieving their suffering and earning their gratitude, if only for a second, has taken some of the burden off my shoulders. Never before have I been thanked by the creations of Father whom I have been watching and protecting for more than forty million years.

Did I do it out of vanity?

Finally, I pull myself out of my thoughts. I have no time to analyze the reasons for my actions.

"Baradiel, destroy the boat in a way that makes it look like it sunk, and drop the soulmates on a shore close to human civilization."

And with these words, I hastily fly away.

I haven't had a chance to check on Dean Winchester for a few days. I need to make sure he is still alive and unharmed.

* * *

I appear with a silent flap of my wings in a hotel room, just in time to hear a muffled cry of pain - Dean's voice - that immediately sets all my senses on alert. The air smells like blood and alcohol, but there are no enemies in sight.

I stop my blade from slipping out of my forearm. Judging by the Winchester brothers' physical state, whatever danger they faced, I'm too late. The righteous man's shirt is stained with blood and he's walking unsteadily to the mirror. Obviously, they recently fought and were injured. Which is standard for hunters, and even more so for the Winchesters. By the look of it, it doesn't seem to require my intervention. In case of amputation, I would have had to fix the problem, because the vessels assigned to the Archangels are to remain undamaged. So I stay concealed in the ephemeral parallel reality Humans can't perceive, wondering what kind of creature they've been confronted with.

"You sure about Ruby? 'Cause I think it's just as likely she used us to find radio girl and then brought that demon in to kill us."

I frown and take a closer look at Dean.

Ruby. The demon Sam Winchester used to frequent goes by this name, the one we defended him to see... Is that why the demons tried to lure us away with the soulmates seal? Were they trying to kill the Winchesters? Or is there something else?

I don't like this. And what Sam says next hits me like a lightning bolt.

"No, she took Anna to keep her safe."

_Anna_.

Is that...? No. It can't be.

I knew it was likely to happen at some point. Born Human, she's been walking the earth without being closely watched and protected like Camael had been. It was only a matter of time before demons or Angels would find her - it would have been surprising if she actually managed to escape us for her entire mortal lifetime.

If demons get their hands on her, they will learn about our plans, our weaknesses, and every secret to which her rank - mine now - gave her access. That would be a disaster. And particularly painful for her. An eternity of agony in Hell.

Now there is my chance to fix my first failure. To restore the Garrison's reputation. To prove my worth as a General.

"Yeah. Well, why hasn't she called to tell us where she is?" Dean asks.

First, I need to be sure it is her. If my theory is correct, then... Then I will have to act quickly.

"Because that demon is probably watching us right now, waiting to follow us right back to Anna again. That's why he let us go."

There’s no demon watching you, Sam. _I_ am.

I spread my wings and fly away in a hurry, Dean's answer to his brother fading into silence. The hotel room and its organic scents are replaced by an endless, white corridor, with white doors as far as the eye can see. Angels in suits are walking back and forth, files in hand, not paying any attention to me.

I storm into Zachariah’s office without knocking, and come face to face with Lavavoth, my hierarchical superior's personal secretary. She looks up from a file she was working on and lifts an eyebrow. For all her composure, her puffed up feathers on her wings give away her surprise.

"Castiel?" she says flatly. "How may I help you?"

"I need to talk to Zachariah."

Lavavoth snaps her file shut and pushes her glasses up over her nose, squinting.

"He's been in a meeting for the past two days. What do you want from him?"

"New orders to deal with an unexpected situation."

"Orders are no longer directly communicated, Castiel. You have to wait for the Revelations update like everyone else."

Now she's starting to get on my nerves. She's starting to get on my nerves. I take a couple of angry strides to the personal assistant, who immediately backs off and lets out a squeak. Her file drops to the ground, scattering sheets of paper at our feet. Stuck in her retreat by the wall, she unfurls her wings to flee, but I grab her by the collar to make sure she stays put. From this close up, her true face is but a shapeless mist of light smothered by my aura, and I can see her vessel's eyelids fluttering like a hunted animal's.

"Where is he? Which meeting room?"

"You CANNOT interrupt a higher Council's confidential meeting!" she yelps. "It's against the rules!"

"This is an urgent matter. _I insist_," I hiss, pressing my forehead against hers.

Her square, black-rimmed glasses are sliding down to the tip of her nose and she is frantically flapping her wings, to no avail. She's firmly pinned against the wall and I'm not letting her go.

"Titus' Paradise! In the Coliseum!" she finally gasps in a high-pitched voice.

Titus? His soul's admission to Heaven had been controversial, and I was opposed to it. And to this day, I still don't understand why the hierarchy refused to send him to Hell - I've never quite understood the logic behind their verdict - it's often unfair to me. But why would the Council hold a meeting there?

I guess my confusion is obvious, as she glares at me stiffly when I loosen my grip on her collar.

"Since the word spread that you've been using Human Paradises for your meetings with the Garrison, it's become the new trend here. Aside from a few Angels sticking to the rules, no one uses meeting rooms anymore. They say it's old-fashioned now. Proud of yourself, I bet?"

Lavavoth lifts up her pointed chin, looking judgmental.

I don't care about any of this. I let her go and snap my wings open, desperate to report the situation to Zachariah.

"No, Castiel! Don't you _dare_! You need to wait until they're done, it should only take about twenty more hours!"

As I take off in a strong wingbeat, I feel her arms wrapping around me, following me in my flight. Lavavoth is clinging to me, throwing me off course, and together we land into the Coliseum, crashing hard into the ground under a bright blue sky. In a tangle of limbs - her foot wearing a stiletto heel strikes me right in the jaw - we are welcomed by phantoms of applause that can always be heard in this Paradise. I shove the personal assistant away and manage to stand up on the blood-stained sandy ground, surrounded by shadows of gladiators and ethereal lions. Lavavoth scrambles to her feet and glowers at me before she turns to the terraces made of stone. Her disheveled brown hair falls out of her loose bun, and her tailor is all covered with sand.

"I'm so sorry, Zachariah! I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't hear it!"

I follow her gaze. A portion of the terraces is occupied by about fifty Angels, including Zachariah who's staring at me with a displeased look on his face.

"Well well, Castiel. You sure know how to make a dramatic entrance! I'm not sure whether to applaud or send you off for rehab."

The other Council Angels chuckle quietly. I dust off my coat and step forward resolutely. I already lost too much time with Lavavoth. Demons are likely to get their hands on Anna before we do.

Better get straight to the point.

"I know for a fact that demons are out there searching for Anna. And that she is able to intercept our communication channels."

Zachariah tilts his head and spreads his wings, reappearing right in front of me.

"Let's go talk somewhere else, shall we?" He puts one hand on my shoulder, the other one on his personal assistant's, and shouts out loud to the Council. "Just carry on without me, I'll be right back!"

The Coliseum vanishes instantly, to be replaced by the cold silence of Zachariah's office. He sits down, crossing his ankles on his desk. Lavavoth rushes to her knees to pick up the scattered file, muttering curses at me.

"Anna's case has long been closed, Castiel. Reopening it would require the whole procedure to be redone, with the authorization of the entire administration. That's at least six months of tedious paperwork. Surely you're aware of that?"

"I am aware," I say through gritted teeth.

"And what guarantee do I have that the Garrison will actually manage to take her down this time? You failed the first two times!"

Zachariah raises a mocking eyebrow, and his personal assistant steps to his side, standing stiff and smug, with her hair neatly combed again. She chuckles, earning an approving look from her superior.

"Killing her is not necessary. What really matters is to stop the enemy from finding her. I would suggest to send her to rehabilitation instead."

"_Rehabilitation?_"

He lets out a high-pitched chuckle as he clasps his hands on his stomach, and Lavavoth seems to mimic his every facial expression like a mirror.

"You should know, my dear Castiel, that when rehabilitation has failed once, a second one has almost no chance of being successful."

"But Anna is - _was_ \- a good element. Demons have a weapon to kill us and now they want to take her! Our number is not unlimited and has not been increased since the Love Division was created. Wouldn't it be wiser to spare and recycle Angels as much as possible?"

Zachariah removes his feet from the desk to lean forward on his elbows.

"Do you remember what I said to you when you took the position, Castiel? I see a lot of potential in you, lad. I believe you'll climb high up the chain of command, but only if you learn not to _think_. I'm going to let this one slide and assume that you've been around primates too much lately."

I clench my fists and stifle the anger growing inside of me. I'm wasting precious time that I could have used to do something useful, like tracking down Anna and briefing the Garrison.

"What are the orders?" I finally say flatly.

"Oh, because of course you want an answer right now. Unbelievable! Just yesterday, a whole pack of first-class Cherubs barged into my office for an issue completely out of my jurisdiction!"

"Time is running out, Zachariah."

He throws his arms up in defeat while Lavavoth clicks her tongue.

"Alright, _alright_! I will reopen the file. But as you know, orders are orders, even two decades overdue. Anna is still facing the death sentence. Take Uriel with you and kill her properly this time. No mistakes. I won't be able to cover up your screw-ups to the bosses forever!"

* * *

Virgil and Rzionr Nrzfm snap their mouth shut and rise to their feet when I enter the torture room. They share a meaningful glance, then silently stare at me with their backs straight. Obviously, I interrupted something.

"Castiel." That’s Uriel’s deep and warm voice. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your coming?"

He is bending over his work with his wings folded behind his back, I can see his elbow moving, while his victim, tied to a chair, starts screaming. Not bothering to turn to face me, he keeps slicing into the demon's flesh and pouring holy water over the open wounds.

"Stop with the torture, Uriel. I have work for you. For the entire Garrison."

My brother's arm pauses, and there is a quiet moment before he turns around. His three purple eyes floating over his human face stare at me, unreadable.

"It is a high priority mission," I say in the silence that not even the tortured demon dares to break. "The seals protection comes second until we have accomplished it."

Uriel frowns and places his bloodied scalpel on the tray with a tinkling.

"A more important mission than the coming Apocalypse?"

I nod sternly, then close my eyes to send out a call to my entire Garrison.

** _The demons are searching for the dissident Anna. Leave your station and find her before they do. She must be eliminated as soon as possible._ **

Uriel opens his eyes wide and steps closer, unfurling his wings with heinous eagerness.

"This is precisely what the demon was confessing," he growls.

"It was a bit vague," says Rzionr Nrzfm in his childish and rather nasal voice, "but he did mention a female Human who has access to all of our plans and secrets."

Virgil nods.

"If Anael's Grace echo kept her rank and connections, they will get sensitive information from her."

"Exactly," I say. "That’s why we need to find her before they do. Dismissed!"

Rzionr Nrzfm and Virgil immediately fly away, while Uriel squints angrily, walking back to the demon to stab him in the heart with his blade. With a muffled grunt, the body flickers and collapses on the chair, lifeless.

"Except you, Uriel. Zachariah wants us to work together."

My brother's wings tighten as his blade returns to his Grace. He lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head.

"Oh, I _sure_ know why he wants you and I to have some alone time..."

"What do you mean?"

Uriel turns to face me, hands deep in his pockets, weariness shadowing his eyes.

"Nothing. Where do we start?"

"With the Winchesters. They seem to be involved. Tricked by demons into finding Anna."

"No wonder. Your two little hairless monkeys like to stick their noses into the wrong places."

Well, Uriel has a point here. Still, I don’t like the way he talks about the Humans under my care, but there’s not time to waste chastising him.

"Let’s go."

* * *

"Keep your energy down, Uriel!" I hiss as we appear at the forest's edge, a few hundred meters from the cabin where I located the Winchester brothers.

The ground is trembling, and the cabin lights are flickering. He's going to rip out the trees from the ground and fry the electricity lines for miles around.

"I can’t help it," he growls, his human eyes glowing with his Grace's blazing light. "If Anna is in there, it's more than tempting to wipe out the entire state to get rid of her at last."

I cast him a warning glance, and he reluctantly unclenches his fists, his eyes fading back to their natural color. He still keeps glaring at the cabin in the distance.

"What are we waiting for? For her to flee again?" he snarls.

He holds out his open hand and I see the door slamming open. I grab his shoulder with a disapproving frown.

"I’m the General, Uriel. I am supposed to go in first."

And without these words, I flap my wings and appear close to the cabin, apprehension constricting my Grace. I walk in through the open door, with Uriel following my steps.

The Winchester brothers are standing there, facing us and armed. Dean's eyes are focused on me, but I quickly shift my gaze to Sam and his shifting features and then to the hideous, viscous, rotten face of the demon at their side.

I can feel another presence. A faint one. One that I wouldn't have noticed if all my senses weren't alert. A dim presence, void of soul and grace, radiating something distant, reminiscent of the past. The barely noticeable echo of a celestial force that I would recognize from any other.

Anna is here. I’m sure of it now.

My wings are shuddering behind my back, and I quickly pull myself together. My old memories and my past attachment to my sister and superior should not interfere with my mission. I must eliminate her without hesitation, as ordered.

"Please tell me you're here to help. We've been having demon issues all day."

"Well, I can see that," Uriel says, glaring at the demon. "You want to explain why you have that stain in the room?"

I should say something before Uriel gets carried away.

"We're here for Anna."

Dean gives me a suspicious look. I haven't taken this parameter into account. It is possible that the appearances could give the righteous man a negative image of us. He doesn't know Anna or her crime, nor our common past.

"Here for her like... _here for her?_"

"Stop talking!" Uriel spits with growing impatience.

_**Uriel...**_ I say directly through our Graces, as a warning.

Then, he continues more calmly.

"Give her to us."

The only answer he gets is a hesitant silence, until Sam Winchester finally speaks.

"Are you gonna help her?"

Anna already received help. Back when Adam and Eve were alive. As Zachariah told me, the hierarchy won't give her a second chance. Since rehabilitation is out of the question, it would be better to grant her a clean death by our hands rather than let her suffer whatever fate the demons may have in store for her.

"No," I say flatly. "She has to die."

"You want Anna? Why?"

How can I explain them? Killing Anna won't bring me any satisfaction, no matter how much I resent her. She abandoned us. She abandoned _me_, at the worst possible time, leaving me to take charge of the Garrison, the responsibility for the upcoming Apocalypse, and the relentless agony of my doubts. She knew what was coming. She had to know. She ran away, and I have been paying the cost of her cowardice and selfishness for more than two decades.

How to explain to mortals whose life expectancy hardly exceeds a few decades, what forty-two million years of trust and community destroyed by the worst kind of betrayal means?

Before I can think of an explanation that Humans might understand, Uriel steps forward, losing his nerve.

"Out of the way."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean steps in. "Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her."

"Don’t worry." Uriel smirks. "I'll kill her gentle."

Anger flashes across Dean's face.

"You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?"

_H__eartless?_ Well, Angels in their true shape have no use for a heart. Our Grace doesn’t need one to flow around.

"As a matter of fact, we are," I say flatly. "And?"

We’re wasting time here. It would be wiser to just get on with the mission regardless of what the righteous man may think of us. I will have the opportunity to explain to him later why we did this, when it's just the two of us, without Uriel to make the situation even worse.

"And? Anna's an innocent girl!"

Sam seems outraged, as though he can't believe what we said, but I can't let him say that. Anna caused too much harm to be defended.

"She is far from innocent," I say.

She is, in fact, on the same level as Lucifer and Azazel. An Angel who has openly disobeyed.

The Winchester brothers share a look.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing," Uriel snarls, gesturing at the demon. "Now _give us the girl._"

These last uttered words, filled with anger, send a thrill through my Grace, and from the corner of my eye I can see Uriel snapping his wings open threateningly, even though mortals can't see them at all.

The Winchester brothers share yet another look, and I avert my eyes. I know Dean's soul. I know he will oppose us. And when he does, I won't hesitate to push him off or knock him unconscious. I might even request a derogation from the hierarchy to wipe this unpleasant incident from his memory.

"Sorry," says Dean as I suspected. "Get yourself another one. Try JDate."

I keep staring at the ground silently, and let Uriel handle the situation.

"Who's gonna stop us? You two? Or this demon whore?"

He grabs the demon - Ruby - with a strong grip and tosses her against the window before pinning her against the wall, clearly intent on smiting her on the spot. I have no objection to that. Killing a demon doesn't require authorization from me or the hierarchy, and this demon has a bad influence on Sam anyway.

Leaving my brother to fight Dean - he is perfectly aware that he is not allowed to kill him or cause him permanent damage - I walk to the door from which Anna's faint presence is radiating.

Let's just get it over with.

Sam is standing in my way, with fear on his half-human half-demon face.

"Cas, stop… please."

I reach out with two fingers and press them against his forehead, knocking him into a deep slumber. Eyes locked on the door, I grab the handle, and...

A strain on my Grace. I can feel it thickening and congealing in my vessel, as my wings spread and become rigid in my back. A familiar sensation reminiscent of Azazel's drawling voice, of Camael's golden eyes so full of rage...

_No_..._!_

I struggle against the force stiffening and igniting my Grace. Sounds grow muffled. Everything becomes blurred.

I feel myself being violently hurled away, and all goes black.

* * *

I sharply open my eyes, my vision filling up with vegetation and sunshine. I can hear birds chirping and sun rays bathing my skin with warmth. And except for the birds, nothing but silence, devoid of the familiar humming of my siblings' voices. Disoriented, I let my lungs fill up with air as I gaze up at the clear blue sky. Stiff and congealed in my veins, my Grace is weighing me down and hindering my senses.

"Fuck! This is all because of your stupid monkeys, Castiel!"

I turn to face Uriel who's angrily kicking a rock from the path snaking away into the trees. Far in the distance, there's a city. We are surrounded by scents of grass and sunbathed earth.

"What is clear now is that Anna remembers everything," I state drearily. The dry grass rustles under my feet as I walk to my brother. Sighing out of frustration, he is leaning against a sign pillar. I point at the sign that reads **Кандалакша** in capital letters. "And we know where we are."

Uriel snorts.

"Russia. Great! What's the point of knowing where we are? By the time we get back, Anna will be long gone, or she will have already revealed all of Heaven's secrets to demons."

His ethereal wings are dangling down from his body, as limp and useless as mine. Uriel knows the effects of this seal like I do, he knows that there is no point in trying to fly or communicate with Heaven. All we can do is wait for our Graces to become fluid again.

I lean my back against the other pillar, while Uriel shoves his hands in his pockets. He stares at the landscape with a sullen look to conceal his frustration.

"We should have left your Human to rot in Hell, if you ask me," he growls angrily. "He keeps getting our way when we're on mission. If it were up to me, I would drive his head into the ground to teach him to show respect in the presence of superior beings."

I throw him a side glance, annoyed by how relentlessly Uriel has been criticizing the righteous man ever since we came back from Hell.

"Don't talk about Dean like that. He is the one destined to defeat Lucifer and save the Creation."

"So much for a savior!" Uriel says with a sneer. "An arrogant monkey consorting with demons and fallen Angels, and whose brother is an abomination! He's no better than a demon!"

"Be _quiet_, Uriel!" I snap back. "I forbid you to talk about the righteous man that way!"

My brother slowly blinks and looks at me wide-eyed, scanning me from head to toe. Then he narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"Why are you defending him, Castiel?"

"He’s under my protection. I am his Guardian."

"No... There’s more…" He steps away from the pillar and walks towards me, staring at me closely. I hold his gaze unblinkingly. "You _like_ him," he says in an accusatory tone.

I silently clench my fists. Is my fondness for Dean so obvious?

I felt compassion and curiosity for the righteous man from the moment I raised him from perdition. But my interest for him grew stronger every day, until I entrusted him with my most shameful secret - those doubts that have been consuming me for thousands of years and that I had never dared to voice. For all the millions of years that we spent side by side, never before had I developed such a close bond of trust with Uriel, nor with any of my brothers.

It might be because Dean is Human and therefore could listen to me without judging what Angels see as a disgusting crime. Or it might be the weight on his shoulders that reminds me of my own.

Uriel seems to take my silence for a yes, and he puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Don’t ever forget," he says earnestly, "that the last time one of our brothers was stupid enough to put a human being above what _truly_ matters, he died because of it."

Camael's mention makes me avert my gaze. A distant echo of his last prayer to me still rings in my head, clear as a bell.

_ I would do it again without hesitation if I had to. I don't regret any of my actions. _

My brother's grip tightens on my shoulder, forcing me to look him in the eye. I can't help but blink in disbelief when I see _supplication_ in his gaze.

"Don’t lose sight of what truly matters. Heaven. The Garrison. _Us_. Our family. And remember that Humans are inherently bad, destructive, the very origin of demons."

I hold his gaze while his warm hand squeezes my shoulder.

"No, Uriel. You’re wrong."

He snatches his hand back as if it had been burned, his face shut again behind a mask of cold anger. Then he turns his heels and steps away, hands deep in his pockets, like he does every time he is displeased.

We remain silent until our Graces finally become fluid and radiant with power again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"What's so funny?"_
> 
> _"Your monkey banged Anna!"_
> 
> _"What?"_
> 
> _"Oh, this is perfect. While you were rotting in here for standing up for him, your little pet was screwing our sister. Seems like betraying Heaven and the Garrison wasn't enough for Anna, she simply couldn't help fornicating with monkeys too!"_


	31. Sentiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** The demons attacked a seal as a diversion, but Castiel found out that they are trying to capture Anna. He gets Zachariah's permission to take action. The Winchesters are protecting the fallen Angel and resist against Uriel and Castiel. Anna uses the banishment sigil, once again eluding them.
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 10**.
> 
> The illustration in this chapter was made by myself, but quite a long time ago, so, yeah, it's not perfect.

Wrapped in pearly slippers, twirling feet tip-toeing on the polished wooden floor, reflecting a white figure like a mirror. Bare, slender legs. A young woman's body curves, spins and flows like water across ice in the sunlight. Her face, carved in silk and light, is smiling serenely as her arms gracefully rise under the music's spell. The lights following her every movement makes the golden powder on her eyelids glisten. The ballerina's soul is humming in harmony as she moves across the stage framed by huge, dark red velvet drapes. On the waxed floor, the memory of her body in a cloudy tutu is glowing.

The music flows, sparkling with crystal shards, showering the vast space with raining stars. Soft flapping of wings disrupts the whole scene, signaling other Angels in coming.

Sitting in my red seat, I look away from the soul to the entire Garrison around me, filling all the golden balconies. Some of them are whispering to one another, others remain silent, but nobody but me has even glanced at the ballerina - born on a Thursday - who was brutally raped and had her throat slit open by some evil stalker the very day before she was to perform at the Opéra Garnier in Paris. She dreamed of this moment for her entire life and it was supposed to be her crowning glory. Her Paradise keeps playing over and over again these few hours when, filled with happiness, she danced to prepare this performance that she would never get to make, not knowing that she was living the last moments of her short life.

On my left, Uriel is standing still as a statue.

Another rustle of feathers, and Ophaniel appears on one of the balconies opposite to us. She places a hand on the ledge and looks around and then fixes her gaze on me, her face unreadable. Ecanus sits at her side and they share a silent glance. Or maybe they are talking to each other through telepathy.

The building's architecture is stunning, and above our heads there is a magnificent ceiling fresco. Just like Lavavoth said, my siblings have recently acquired a taste for human Paradises, and diligently search for the best ones to hold their meetings and discussions. I can only guess that this isn't to the liking of the division in charge of Axis Mundi. I never thought I would start a trend the first time I used a Paradise as a meeting room.

The circular painting above the chandelier glittering with gold and light depicts Angels, or at least celestial beings as Humans portray them. They look human in appearance, naked and winged. I squint indecisively. I don't know if I should be complacent, impressed or offended by this artwork. Whoever painted this couldn't have known that the generalized use of vessels is very recent and in no way representative of our true appearance. Besides, we are required to keep the vessel's clothes as they are, unless they do not fit in with the human codes of power and authority. Well, the unranked Cherubs are the exception to this rule.

I look down to marvel at the carved gilding adornments all around and the dark red seats arranged in a half circle on the ground level and perched in the balconies. My two hundred soldiers are sitting on one side, and the two hundred members of the Council on the other. When Zachariah and Brap walk onto the stage, it pulls me out of my contemplation, and I can feel my wings clenching.

"Brap and I are presiding today over this unusual session," says Zachariah with his hands clasped behind his back.

Amplified by the unique acoustics here, his voice carries strongly inside the Opera, and behind them the soul keeps dancing, too absorbed in her memory to even notice anything else. This is what happens to all souls in Heaven, with a few exceptions - like Ash - who wake up from their state of happiness to regain consciousness, until the assigned Angels force them back into their memory.

Standing on the stage, Zachariah and Brap pay no attention to the ballerina. In his tall, slender vessel, Brap pushes his round, yellow glasses up over his nose and speaks in a slightly nasal voice.

"As you know, Castiel let Anael escape again, and personally I suspect it is no coincidence, more like misplaced loyalty for his former General."

"Nobody asked you, Brap," Ophaniel says coldly. "The point of this crisis meeting is to locate and execute the rebel, not for you to waste our time with your personal considerations."

Brap snaps his wings open and the spotlights casts a white flash over his glasses.

"Opha, how many times do I have to tell you to ask permission to speak before you open your–"

"Brap," Zachariah cuts him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't forget that Castiel is under my immediate supervision. If there are any suspicions of betrayal against my subordinate, I will handle it myself."

The voices ring out in the vast auditorium, while the music sets a more cadenced and grander rhythm that the ballerina follows with a few hops, her arms elegantly deployed.

"Right!" Zachariah cheerfully claps his hands. "Let me remind you the reason why we are gathered here. Castiel over here found out that Anna, who was untraceable to us for over twenty years, is being hunted by demons and still has access to our chats through celestial channels. The Communications Division is currently working to correct this problem and cut off access to her. It also seems that she remembers everything, since she used the forbidden seal of banishment to cast out Uriel and Castiel. So what's the problem, you might ask? Well, by the time our two brothers recovered the use of their Grace, the Winchesters and their little pet demon found a way to hide themselves and Anna from us! Now we can't locate them. The question now is: how to track them down?"

An Angel - whom I only know by name: Rgoan - stands up in one of the highest balconies.

"I read Uriel's detailed mission failure report, and none of this would have happened if Castiel hadn't bothered to chat with Dean Winchester, leaving time for Anael to escape from us. Unlike Brap, I don't think Castiel is still loyal to Anael, but..." He points an accusing finger at me. "… he is clearly compromised and developing _feelings_ for the righteous man!"

Shocked whispering rises from as I open my eyes wide. Where is this nonsense coming from?

I can see from the corner of my eye that Uriel is pressing his lips with open disgust. As for Hester, she slapped a hand on her chest, gaping with indignation.

"Remember what happened the last time one of us was assigned as a Guardian," Rgoan says with conviction. "Castiel is on a slippery slope, and in great need to be sent on rehabilitation to get back on line!"

Some of my soldiers splutters angrily. The music spirals out dramatically, growing louder and louder.

"Rgoan, you goat mouth breeder!" Zedekiel jumps to his feet, barely restrained by Levanael who looks utterly baffled.

"Zedekiel, sit back down!" I hiss through my teeth. "You’re making it worse!"

"I can't just sit there and let him say that!" Zedekiel snarls, struggling to break free from Levanael's iron fist.

The ballerina's soul keeps spinning around while my siblings raise their voices and start throwing slurs from balcony to balcony.

"Let’s get it over with and just send him to rehabilitation!" a few dozen Angels are shouting.

I can feel my Grace freezing. My deep-rooted fear of rehabilitation is running through my veins, paralyzing me.

"This is ridiculous and a waste of our time," Uriel groans at my side, slumping a bit more into his seat with obvious annoyance.

Half of the congregation is now standing up and shouting over the increasing volume and tempo of the music. With his hands raised in a pacifying gesture, Zachariah is vainly trying to bring back peace, disregarded by Brap who went and joined the others in a fiery argument about Dean and I.

"Take him to rehabilitation at once!" someone is yelling in this chaos.

Ecanus slams his fist onto the gilding of his balcony banister, splitting it all the way down with a loud cracking sound.

"Stop this nonsense!" he shouts to cover the other voices with his own. "Castiel is fighting a war, and his Garrison needs him to lead them! There is no time for rehabilitation!"

"Why are you all so fixated on Castiel?" Ophaniel argues adamantly. "Uriel was there with him every time, and I can't see anyone charging him with such serious accusations!"

"It’s quite simple, really." Brap snorts dismissively. "Uriel, for one thing, has never shown any hint of emotion, he’s not a Guardian, and he's actually the one who reported Castiel's deviant behavior!"

I sharply turn my head to Uriel, staring at him in disbelief and betrayal. He merely arches an eyebrow and shrugs.

"What?" he says in a defensive tone. "II had a duty to report it, as you know. You did the same thing for Anna before she was rehabilitated, remember. I did it for your sake."

I clench my fists and press my lips together, short of words. Uriel has a point. He did what he had to do, what his duty required of him.

"Let's focus on the actual issue, kids," Zachariah calls, growing restless all alone on the stage. "We're here to figure a way to rat Anna out of her hole without harming wonder boy Dean, not to gossip and squabble!"

He rams his heel into the waxed floor with such vigor it cracks the stage surface with a loud crack that finally brings back silence.

"Well then!" Zachariah smooths down his suit with a smirk on his face. "I see that Castiel's alleged soft spot for the righteous man sparks your interest... Now, back to Anna, please. We need to find her, preferably with the Winchesters' help. Any ideas?"

He watches over the assembly with an inviting smile, and Ophaniel stands up in a dignified way.

"I suggest that we use the communication channels to tell Anna that we are looking for her. Let's give her an ultimatum. If she has even the smallest shred of obedience and decency left, she will give herself up like the good soldier she once was."

"A traitor like her?" Leoc sneers. "Yeah, right!"

Rgoan is the next one to speak up.

"I recommend that Castiel visits Dean's dream when he's asleep - as you know, human dreams allow us a shifting access from Heaven - and threatens Sam's life. This Winchester idiot is so fond of his abomination of a little brother, this is the most reliable way. Let's give him a choice, to this free-will creature: Sam or Anael. He will hand her over to us with a ribbon around her, for sure."

Only once my fingers are dug into the balcony ledge - so hard that it's cracking under my fingernails - and my wings spread open wide, do I realize that I've jumped to my feet, driven up by a searing burst of outrage.

"We can’t do that to Dean! I know his soul and the way he thinks. Threatening Sam and compelling him to betray someone under his protection will ruin every shred of respect he has for me!"

"Castiel, shut up!" Uriel hisses through his teeth.

"The respect he has for _you?_ Well, that’s interesting. Why do you care how he feels about you, Castiel?" Rgoan grins triumphantly. "See?" he says to everyone. "I called it! _F__eelings__!_"

"It would be easier to just blow up the whole country!" Uriel exclaims, standing up angrily. "At least the target would be obliterated!"

"Silence!" Zachariah orders, but no one is listening.

"I find it very offensive to accuse our General of something as disgusting as _feelings_, especially for a Human!" Rachel rages on, pushing back Izraz who was trying to restrain her.

"Well, it’s the truth. Assigning him to lead the Garrison was a mistake. Actually, the very existence of the Garrison is a mistake, they're just a bunch of useless, rebellious and Human-loving fools!"

Anger rises in me, boiling and threatening to burst out, for too long contained ever since I was promoted up the ranks. Still, I manage to control myself.

"Apologize." I raise my voice. "_Right now__._"

Rgoan's grin broadens.

"You should have let Dean Winchester to rot in Hell, Castiel. Ever since you've been on trial with Camael, I've been saying over and over that both of you were rebels unworthy of being named Angels, and now, for the second time, facts are proving me right..."

There is a shriek of rage, and suddenly Rgoan gets yanked out of his balcony and smashed to the ground with a loud crash. I rush to the ledge to lean over and look down. And there is Hester in the middle of rubbles, her face twisted with wrath, straddling Rgoan and pounding his face with her fists. Blood splatters in scarlet drops, staining her hands and clothes.

"DON’T!" she roars. "_E__VER__!_ INSULT MY GENERAL AGAIN!"

"Hester!" I shout, bewildered. "Stop! That’s an order!"

No one is listening. All my soldiers are fighting, except for Levanael who’s watching the scene, standing there in her white dress and blinking in dismay. They're viciously battling against the Council members. My brothers and sisters fighting each other – this is all too familiar, reminding me the major rebellion that erupted when Camael died.

"Soldiers!" I order with my most commanding voice. "Stop this at once!"

A violent wave of energy hits the balcony and makes the entire structure crumble into a golden cloud of dust. The Garrison soldiers and myself spread our wings open to move into the chaos, surrounded by a jumble of ripped off and ruined seats. I have no choice but to fight back the Council members by dodging multiple attacks in a confusion of shouting, music, blows and waves of energy wrecking the Opera, which doesn't regenerate quickly enough to absorb all the damage.

There is a cracking sound and I look up just in time to see a widening breach across the ceiling, slicing apart the colored fresco. When the chandelier falls into the battlefield, I barely escape the crystal and gold crashing down, while the other Angels step out with bloody skulls, looking even more eager to fight. I jump to the side to dodge Virgil's body, propelled through the wall, shattering it and ripping the veil of illusion to expose the Axis Mundi as it really is. Endless, empty voice, with only a bright, white path going through.

The Opera's ravaged setting is sizzling and trying so hard to rebuild itself as I rise to my feet - the chandelier just materialized again above. A fist crashes into my face, splitting my lip open with a gush of blood.

Brap. The General of the Plant Division raises his knee in an attempt to send me a kick.

_"__CASTIEL__!"_ Levanael shouts out to alert me.

She jumps between Brap and me, taking the full impact of the kick in the stomach. The music turns grand and epic, and the soul is still dancing, oblivious to anything happening, while Hester rushes in to support Levanael. Together they hurl themselves onto Brap in spite of my objections. Attacking an Angel as high-ranking as Brap will not be without consequences.

_**"****ENOUGH****!"**_ Zachariah's amplified voice echoes in all our heads. _**"Seize Castiel.**_**_**"**_**

Levanael opens her eyes wide and Hester clenches her bloodied fists, but they're forced aside by some of my own soldiers: Rzionr Nrzfm, Mgam, Habioro - and Virgil who just came back. They restrain me even though I'm not resisting, and Zachariah appears in front of me in a rustle of feathers.

"I didn’t start any of this, Zachariah," I argue.

He raises an eyebrow when the music resumes its endless loop, gentle and peaceful again. All eyes are on me while the Opera is rebuilding itself around us, concealing once again the Axis Mundi.

"Indeed you didn’t," he concedes. "But this incident happened because of you and the way your soldiers behaved was appalling. A superior's duty is to take responsibility for any crap from his subordinates, just in the same way that I will be held accountable for your behavior." He's not smiling, and cold anger is radiating in his aura. "A decision has to be made, we already wasted way too much time. So you will jump right into Dean's dream as we agreed. That’s an order."

I hold his gaze unblinkingly. I can feel warm blood running down my chin to my neck.

"_No,_" I snarl.

Someone lets out an outraged yelp somewhere behind me.

_"Disobedience!"_

This is getting ridiculous.

"This is not disobedience!" I snap back indignantly. "All I'm saying is that we can find a more efficient method that won't make the righteous man to hate us. Do I need to remind you that he's meant to defeat Lucifer _for us?_"

Zachariah narrows his eyes.

"That is not the point, my dear Castiel. Maybe Brap does have a point after all. Your allegiance to the righteous man, if proven accurate, could hinder your duties as a General. This matter needs to be considered. More paperwork ahead, wonderful."

"Thank you for finally acknowledging it," Brap says in a drawling voice, wiping his round glasses with his shirt. "I've been telling you for the last two billion years: I'm always right."

Zachariah sighs and slowly turns away, hands clasped behind his back.

"Castiel. You are relieved of your duties as General."

My breath gets stuck in my throat as I open my eyes wide. There is whispering rising up from my soldiers' ranks.

"This is only a temporary measure," he adds. "You will work under Uriel's supervision, who will assume your functions and command as General until we get the result of your evaluation. The first indication of feelings will send you straight to rehabilitation. This is a just a formality, but I do hope that you will put an end to these silly rumors about you." He turns his head to glance back over his shoulder. "Uriel will handle that dream chat with Dean. In the meantime, I suggest you reflect on what _really_ is important." He gestures at my soldiers. "Take him to solitary confinement. That will help him cool down."

* * *

The sound of crackling fire feels so loud in this silence.

I've been through this once before. It was a long time ago.

The same solid gold columns, towering and melting into the overflowing light. Wings folded behind my back, I look down in fear to the ring of fire surrounding me. Its fiery reflection in the marble floor doesn't match the flickering rhythm of the flames - as though it's dissociated from their time course - and sometimes it even fades out altogether. My own reflection only emerges sporadically, displaying a faceless, light-fracked version of my vessel. There are countless shadows slithering all around on the ground, but so fleetingly that I can't get a good look at them, they remain lurking at the edge of my eyesight.

I don't know if these oddities violating every law of physics can only be sensed through a flesh-and-blood vessel, or if I was so distraught the last time I was here that I just didn't notice anything.

Jimmy's soul is getting restless inside of me, affected by the fluctuating flow of time. I can feel it growing older and younger simultaneously, filled with primal fear. I wrap my Grace around it tighter to shield it from this place's effects.

I'm quite uncomfortable myself. The excruciating silence in my head, the lack of voices from my siblings, and the time effects that my aura barely manages to keep out, all of this is becoming harder and harder to endure. I can't tell whether I've been here for a thousand years, a century, or just a month. It seems like time doesn't just move forward, instead it pauses or even goes backwards.

The Apocalypse may have already happened and I am not even aware of it. Humanity may have been obliterated, Earth devastated, the Last Judgment already over... and I may have been forgotten here for the rest of eternity.

Dean Winchester may have died a long, long time ago.

My Grace pulses painfully, and a deep kind of sadness drowns me. I should experience regret and shame for questioning an order from my superior. But I don't.

Zachariah is _not_ God. And Zachariah is wrong. I was right to object. Threatening and tormenting the righteous man would be unwise and cruel, unworthy of our role. Dean is a rational and virtuous being, whose blood carries our Father's love. All I would need is to be allowed to talk to him, to explain things to him, and then maybe... maybe if I could win his trust...

I pull my wings even closer to my vessel, wrapping it with my translucent, ice-like feathers. The holy fire stirs up a deep, instinctive terror in me, reminder of Angels burning to death during the aborted Apocalypse. I could perish in unimaginable agony if one of these flames brushed against a single one of my feathers.

I carefully raise a hand in front of my face, sensing the fluctuating and chaotic flow of time against my Grace protecting this artistic composition of bones, veins, articulations and flesh. I hold my breath and let my Grace slowly withdraw from my fingers, then from my entire hand down to my wrist. Instantly, the work of time's effects show on Jimmy's skin. From one moment to the next, as though touched by an invisible snake, part of the hand withers and decays, revealing bones that eventually turn to dust. And this, only to regenerate and grow back into the chubby hand of a child and then of an infant, then disappear entirely.

"Fascinating, is it not?"

A soft flapping of wings stops my contemplation, and I let my Grace take back control of my hand, looking up at Uriel. Hands in his pockets, my brother is smiling and there is a twinkle in his eyes, like he's having a hard time containing his laughter.

"No other creature but us could ever step in here without falling prisoner of time, simultaneously dead and alive, here and elsewhere, at the dawn and the end of their life. Forever hanging between _being _and _not being_."

He pulls one hand out of his pocket and slowly lowers it, putting down the flames surrounding me. I instantly relax and stretch out my ethereal wings behind my back as I take a step towards my brother. His vibrant aura of energy expands and wraps around me, building some kind of dome shielding us from the flow of time.

"Uriel. How many years have I been here?"

Unexpectedly, Uriel bursts out laughing, slams his hand on my shoulder and wraps one of his wings around me. He hasn't been so affectionate for a long time.

"Only a few _hours_, Cas, but so much has happened! Can you believe that... oh, it's so... you won't believe what your little hairless monkey did... ah ah ah!"

A few hours? I can't help but shudder just thinking that Camael spent more than a thousand years suffering such torture.

What I don't understand is Uriel's hilarity. He is bent over, slapping his knee and laughing endlessly.

"What's so funny?"

He finally manages to speak, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Your monkey banged Anna!"

"What?"

Finding some kind of control back, Uriel straightens up and lets go of my shoulder, staring at me with a broad smile filled with affection and provocative mockery.

"Oh, this is perfect. While you were rotting in here for standing up for him, your little pet was screwing our sister. Seems like betraying Heaven and the Garrison wasn't enough for Anna, she simply couldn't help fornicating with monkeys too!"

I open my mouth and close it shut, speechless. Using a vessel to engage in human - or animal - copulation is something no one in Heaven would even dare to mention. It's a rule rarely discussed because it's disgraceful and almost never broken.

Even though from a technical point of view, there is no vessel, involved here since Anna's human body actually belongs to her and holds no soul.

This is no laughing matter. Uriel shouldn't be laughing about this.

"So you located Dean and Anna," I say in a neutral tone.

"I did, using Rgoan's idea approved by Zachariah. And it worked: as soon as I threatened his brother, Dean promptly turned Anna in. I guess her sexual feats weren't so impressive!" He chuckles at his own joke, then all amusement drops from his face as he spreads his wings. "You'll be under my command until further notice, Castiel. Follow me. We're going to blast Anna off this world once and for all, and I'm going to enjoy ripping apart this traitor to her own kind."

* * *

The flow of my brethren's whispers seeps into my Grace like warm honey, grounding me back and restoring the holy bond binding me to Heaven. Before us rises an old barn in the middle of the woods. Uriel's information was correct, judging by the black vehicle concealed in the vegetation, that I recognize as the property of the Winchesters.

"So, Castiel, this is how we're going to proceed: just keep quiet and let me do all the talking. It's never wise to think on a mission. All you have to do is obey, it's that easy."

I merely nod, torn between the bitter humiliation of having to follow my soldier's orders and the resentful longing to see Anna again.

Anna. My sister, but more importantly the one who has been, since my early days, the anchor of my Faith, my support and my guidance. The one who abandoned us at the direst moment. The one who struggled long before me with the same doubts that are now tormenting me.

Torn by the widest range of emotions I have ever experienced, I walk to my brother's side to the barn. With a faint flick of his fingers, he raises a gust of wind that brutally opens the doors, exposing the inside where the Winchester brothers are standing and...

We stepped forward, the doors closing behind us.

Looking so small between the two Humans, there stands what at first glance seems to be a young woman with ginger hair.

Anna.

I can feel, weak and faded, her Grace's echo throbbing in the flow of the blood pumped by the heart. Sam holds out an arm as though to protect her, but all I can focus on is Anna's face. Although there is no aura, no wings, and no true form around this body made of flesh and blood, I would know this gaze and this presence anywhere.

A dignified and alert look hiding behind resigned dread. The eyes of a General who knows exactly what lies ahead.

Millions of years of memories seize me, reliving the old flame of my devotion to her that I had buried when I took over her command.

"Hello, Anna. It's good to see you."

My voice sounds odd to my own ears, filled with a yearning I can't contain. A yearning for a long-gone age when I had no doubts, when the Garrison was united under Anna's strong grip.

"How? How did you find us?" Sam exclaims.

He's glowering at us with blatant defiance, lacking the naive admiration he displayed when we first met. The demonic and fluctuating features of his face are more pronounced and repellent - which makes sense, if he has been drinking demon blood since.

I lay my eyes on Dean whose face openly shows remorse and the pain it causes him. I wish I could tell him that I never wanted this to happen like this. But I'm under watch. Uriel will report my behavior to Zachariah if I prove them right about my alleged... _feelings_.

Is this what it is? _Feelings?_ Was Rgoan right about me?

I don't think so. It can't be. Samandriel and Anna once told me that we are unable to feel like Humans do. That nothing we experience is comparable to human emotions.

I look down, distraught, as Sam and Anna notice the broken look on the righteous man's face.

"… Dean?" whispers Sam, like he can't believe it.

With eyes brimmed with tears and his jaw clenched, Dean turns his head towards Anna.

"I'm sorry."

_"Why?"_ asks his younger brother in a reproachful tone.

"Because they gave him a choice." Anna's new human voice still carries her former rank's confidence. "They either kill me... or kill you."

I keep my eyes on the ground, staring at those three pairs of feet. Anna knows what she's talking about. She has given the same kind of orders many times in the past - she knows what it means to lead the Garrison. The orders we are executing today are not that different from what we did to Judas, Pharaoh, or Cain.

"I know how their minds work," she continues in a harsh and accusing voice.

I look up to realize that she is glaring at me intensely. Me, not Uriel. She's holding me accountable as General. If her access to the communication channels has been cut off, she most likely doesn't know about my demise.

I should be the one getting angry. Anna betrayed us, she abandoned us, and it's entirely her fault if I bear the burden of the responsibilities that she has dumped on me. It was her selfishness that forced me to take on this role that I never wanted! It's because of her that I found out what was going on in the higher command and that now I'm plagued by doubts!

But I can't bring myself to feel anger. The judgment in her eyes just makes me feel worse, and my wings drop behind my back.

Millions of years of obedience, submission and blind trust can't be undone in just two decades. Her disapproval fills me with irrational shame.

Finally, Anna turns to the righteous man, touching his arm and reaching out to press her lips against his. To see my sister, my General, once a Warrior of the Lord and fine strategist, stooping to such a human and primal action is a shock.

So Uriel was right. Anna did engage in breeding organic rituals. This is the reason why she left us to our fate, to the Apocalypse and to the schemes of the hierarchy! _This_ is why she betrayed the Garrison!

She wanted to get what she started to envy hundreds of millennia ago: feelings. Something I am now wrongly accused of.

A burning wave of anger sets my Grace ablaze and stiffens my wings.

Anna breaks the kiss.

"You did the best you could," she says to Dean. "I forgive you."

Forgiveness... Isn't that a virtue that can only be found in Humans and Father? Angels are not capable of forgiveness. Nor of hatred, or love. And yet, these definitions come close to what I have for Anna. Resentment, anger, longing...

My emotions will get me into trouble if I'm not careful. I can't let anything through, I'm being watched. I lower my gaze as I try to resorb the turmoil of my Grace, but I look up again when Anna speaks, stepping resolutely towards us.

"Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready."

In her frail human body stripped of her Grace, Anna is standing before us, awaiting her execution with a soldier's dignity. Might as well get it over with as quickly as possible. Whether by our hands here and now, or by the demons, Anna is doomed.

She has to die.

"I'm sorry."

My voice sounds like the echo of the righteous man's words.

A bitter smile grazes her lips.

"No. You're not. Not really. You don't know the feeling."

I am, though. I _am_ sorry. Or at least… I believe I am. Certainly not in the human definition of the word, but I really tried to defend Anna, to spare her the execution. Seeing my siblings lose their way and die is never pleasant. And even though we were unable by nature to shed tears neither for Siosp nor for Camael, Anna's fate is affecting me much more than these ancient executions. Anna has been my mentor ever since my creation. She was an important part of my world.

Sadness at the loss of what was and never will be again... Wishing that circumstances and orders were different... Is it not what being _sorry_ means?

Does she think it's easy for me to kill her? This is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever been ordered to do in my entire life. So, so much harder than killing hundreds of innocent Humans.

"Still, we have a history…" I say hesitantly.

I can't tell her about my doubts. About Heaven's confusing orders. About Dean Winchester's tragic fate. About the fact that I'm starting to understand some of the things she told me in the past.

How could I ever begin to explain?

"It's just…"

"Orders are orders. I _know_," she snaps. "Just make it quick."

I feel empty. I am under the obligation to destroy the only one who could understand and explain to me the recent changes within me. Should I say something? Farewell? I can't think of anything to say that would make it better.

Suddenly four demons appear behind Anna and the Winchesters - the slimy, twisted features of their faces conceal the human ones they're possessing, like organic masks. They're holding Ruby, wobbling on her legs, her belly soaked with blood. A suffocating stench of sulfur immediately infects the air.

"Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head," says one of them in a drawling voice.

I tense up and spread my immaterial wings. From the corner of my eye, I can see Uriel doing the same as his threatening aura fills with power. He steps heavily towards the enemies - while Ruby scrambles away to safety - with a seeming calm attitude that I have seen many times before. This is how he looks just before a battle. I know him enough to see that on the inside he is thrilled, thirsting for violence.

"How dare you come in this room… you pussing sore?"

The demon walks closer - clearly the leader of this intervention - showing no fear whatsoever. Is this recklessness, arrogance, or the certainty of being protected by a weapon? Maybe the one I've been tracking since Ephra's death...

"Name-calling!" He narrows his eyes. "That hurt my feelings… you _sanctimonious, fanatical prick_."

Starting a fight here and now would waste precious time and not only give Anna the opportunity to escape us once again, but also endanger the perfect vessels for Michael and Lucifer. Our mission is to execute Anna, not to go around battling common demons. We don't have time for this nonsense.

"Turn around and walk away now," I say in a commanding tone.

The demon seems completely unimpressed.

"Sure. Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper."

He even has the nerve to wink at me.

It would seem that our two thousand years long retreat to Heaven was enough to diminish the fear demons once had of us. Or is it the upcoming Apocalypse and possessing this secret weapon that makes them so disrespectful?

The ruthless war we've been waging for weeks, no demon can possibly be unaware of our power. Even though seals are breaking one by one - forty-five already - thousands of demons died in the process.

Three demons against two Angels - one being Uriel, the strongest warrior of all divisions. They don't stand a chance. Who do they think they are? This is nothing but a foolish provocation. How dare they.

"You know who we are and what we will do," I say sternly. "I won't say it again. Leave now... or we lay you to waste."

"Think I'll take my chances," the demon hisses back insolently.

Is it our - _my_ \- failure to protect the seals that let demons think they can insult us and not face consequences? Just how much more humiliation am I going to endure? The hierarchy, my subordinates, and even Dean Winchester... now even common demons are looking down on me?

I'm going to teach them _respect_.

Everything happens very fast. Uriel is first to attack, handling two demons while I punch their leader, pounding my fist into his fist repeatedly. Once the enemy is stunned, I smash my open hand on his forehead, thrusting a purifying wave of my Grace into the body he's possessing.

Only, instead of burning from the inside as evil gets exorcised... absolutely nothing happens. I can feel my eyes widen in disbelief.

How come my Grace's celestial power isn't affecting him?

"Sorry, kiddo." The demon is gloating, unfazed by what's happening. "Why don't you go run to daddy?"

Taking advantage of my shock, he breaks free from my grasp and sends me to the ground with a punch far too powerful to be delivered by an ordinary demon.

And as the demon comes to straddle me, my entire Grace is throbbing with pain, paralyzed by the sheer violence of the blow I received. I had not experienced such a strong impact since the fight I lost against Camael. The enemy's hand is around my neck, and a dull fear creeps into me as he starts chanting.

"_Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna_..."

My vision is blurring, gradually concealing that slimy face above me. I can feel my Grace loosening from the brain cells allowing me to control this body, and suddenly I can't move a limb anymore. While my vision and hearing totally disappear, leaving me in darkness and silence, I feel an evil and ice-cold power sliding in, pushing and wringing my Grace to extract Jimmy's soul from my protection. I sense Jimmy's terror and suffering as the slimy force wraps itself around him despite my efforts.

What is he trying to do with Jimmy? Jimmy Novak is under my responsibility. He trusted me with his body and soul, I can't let a demon harm him!

Panic overcomes me when I finally realize what my enemy's intention is. He's not trying to reach me, it's my vessel's soul he's after, to warp and make it turn evil. If Jimmy becomes a demon, his body will be unusable to me. Forever sullied.

No... _NO!_

I can no longer control my grace. All I feel is the darkness slowly making its way into the pure and shining soul of Jimmy, this devout and gentle Human being.

Suddenly, the icy darkness surrounding me withdraws without completing its work, allowing me to wrap my energy around Jimmy's terrified but unsullied soul once again. I get back my vessel's body sensations, my vision clears to reveal the barn roof, and I can hear clearly again.

"Dean, Dean, Dean... I am _so_ disappointed. You had such promise."

The ground is cold and hard against my back and my skull, and I can barely move my fingers as my frozen Grace is just starting to fluidify. I can see out of the corner of my eye the demon attacking Sam and Dean, and I clench my teeth, focusing all my energy in my vessel's muscles. I am the righteous Man's Guardian, in charge of protecting the vessels of the Archangels... it is my duty to protect them!

I manage to pull myself up on my elbows, just in time to see Anna throw herself at Uriel and snatch away her Grace hanging from his neck in the vial, and smash it on the ground.

I can only stare wide-eyed as I feel this energy carrying the echoes of ancient times rise up, radiant and glowing, and then I see it seep into my sister's human body through her mouth, just like I have seen her so many times possessing Humans for our missions throughout the ages. But today, it's different. Once all the Grace has been absorbed, her body starts radiating light, as though fusing again with her holy spirit is causing a violent reaction. Anna falls to her knees, in obvious pain.

"Shut your eyes!" she says, struggling to rise to her feet again. _"Shut your eyes!"_

Even the demon stops torturing Sam and Dean and turns to look at her while light literally bursts out of her body.

"SHUT YOUR EYES!"

She throws her head back and I stare in wonder as her true form erupts from flesh and blood. Her true face flows over the young woman's, shaping her three green eyes recalling a not so distant past, but so out of reach now. Then her wide and powerful wings spring from her back, radiating so much light that it would surely make Jimmy go blind if my Grace weren't constantly healing his eye sockets before they burst into flames.

My dear sister, my General, in all her past glory... she who today is cut off from Heaven and from the love of the Lord.

Her power explodes in a blast, casting away all demons. And everything goes dark.

Anna is gone.

My Grace is fluid and flowing freely again, and I rise up, sharing a look with my brother who is clearly upset. The Winchester brothers appear to be unharmed. Dean bends down to pick up the demon-killing blade, and then glares at us with barely veiled contempt.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're _scared_."

"This isn't over," Uriel snarls, taking an angry step forward.

I hold him back with a hand on his shoulder, pulsing a slight part of my Grace into his body to try to soothe him. I can feel how agitated his energy is, how much rage and frustration are consuming him. Even his breathing is labored. It's rare for Uriel to let his anger overpower him to the point where it shows physically through his vessel.

"Oh, it looks over to me, junkless," Dean retorts arrogantly.

** _Our mission here is over_**_, _ I whisper into my brother’s holy spirit. ** _ There is nothing more for us to do here._ **

Uriel relaxes slightly and spreads his wings. I take one last look at the righteous man. I wish I could thank him. He attacked an extremely powerful demon to save me. Without him, Jimmy's innocent soul would be damned, and I would have lost precious time in this war just to find and get a new vessel. Jimmy is a good man, and it would have been very regrettable if he had endured such a dreadful fate.

But I don't have time for this.

The barn vanishes around us, instantly replaced by my office's brightness.

"Fucking demons!" Uriel spits, seething with rage. "I called it, we should just have killed Sam and his evil little whore right from the start!"

He's obviously holding back from wrecking my office, which I'm grateful for.

"This is out of question, Uriel."

Uriel finally folds his wings back in frustration.

"I really wanted to kill Anna with my own hands," he growls, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

I frown in disbelief.

"How can you even _wish_ to kill one of us? I know Anna sinned in the worst way, and orders are orders, but..."

"She no longer is one of us, Castiel, she hasn't been for a long time. She betrayed the Garrison, she betrayed Heaven, and more importantly, she betrayed her own nature by choosing whining, crawling maggots over us."

Uriel is staring at me as he speaks, like he's studying my reactions. I merely squint. In these troubled times, I really don't like seeing the unity and harmony among my siblings crumbling, not even for a dissident like Anna. I have seen how much the Apocalypse and the Human issue is dividing Heaven – it was quite obvious from the Council overreacting to my protectiveness over Dean.

Probably best to just change the subject.

"Let's leave it at that. There's another thing bothering me, Uriel. The demon who attacked me..."

"Alastair."

I open my eyes wide.

"What did you say?"

Uriel scowls.

"The demon. The name's Alastair. One of Hell's most powerful vermin."

"Alastair... Why didn't you tell me? We could have captured him! He's the demon currently ruling Hell and the one who tortured Dean Winchester!"

"Oh for Heaven’s sake, do you even hear yourself? Dean Winchester this, Dean Winchester that, will you _stop_ for one minute?! Do I need to remind you the deep shit you're in and that at the slightest suspicion of feelings you'll go straight into rehabilitation? Forget about your bloody hairless monkey and think about your own kin instead!"

With a fierce flapping of wings, Uriel is gone, leaving me alone in my office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"You wanted to follow Lucifer...?"_
> 
> _"He had strong arguments."_


	32. What becomes of fallen angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** After Uriel and Castiel failed to execute Anna, the Council and the Garrison gathered to decide on the strategy to snatch the dissident from the protection of the Winchester brothers. Castiel is opposed to threatening Dean with killing Sam, and gets thrown into solitary confinement and temporarily removed from his post on suspicion of sentiments. Uriel takes over command, but when he brings Castiel back to kill Anna, she manages to get her Grace back and escapes.
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 15**.

Fragile golden gleams are flickering in their glass vessels. The dark red wax melts inside, in the end drowning these fleeting sparkles of light, one by one. As I stand in the sanctuary of the Church of the Holy Rosary, I look up from the burning candles to the painting behind them. I can't help but frown as I gaze upon this portrayal of Jesus crucified, surrounded by Angels as Humans depict them. For all its artistic and lyrical qualities, it is hard for me to enjoy such flawed artwork.

Camael never once displayed such a peaceful expression on his face throughout his long hours of agony. The crosses the Romans used were not so towering and the nails were hammered into the wrists and not into the hands whose bones are too delicate to support the weight of an adult man. Besides, my brother's human body didn't look like that at all. But then again, two thousand years is long enough for mortals to forget how things really happened.

I narrow my eyes as I stare at the so-called Angels with white, red and blue wings, who are collecting blood from the wounds into golden goblets. Now this is offensive. We did ensure our fallen brother's death and watched his agony without interfering - orders are orders - but we would never have harvested his bodily fluids. Why would we even want to do that? Sometimes I am baffled by the way Humans view us.

Never before had orders led me into a church while I am in possession of a vessel. I've always been looking down upon these constructions with the satisfaction of knowing that my Father and my brother's sacrifice were honored, and disappointed to see our message twisted and used for evil purposes. Being down there, so close to the ground among my Father's creations is both exciting and frustrating. There are so many things I could teach them to pull them out of their ignorance, ridiculous fears, and biased beliefs...

Baradiel too looks fascinated by the human artistic creations. Even though we've been spending every day here for almost a month now, he's never lost interest and he keeps staring at every detail, intensely, like he's trying to unravel their mystery. Hands deep in his brown velvet pants pockets, he's looking up at an angel sculpture with outstretched wings that is staring back at him. I don't know how long he's been gazing at the statue, but his lips are pinched and his head tilted as though he's trying to solve a very complex riddle.

All Angels drawn or sculpted by Humans since the last Apocalypse display a white-skinned human appearance with dove-like wings, very different from ours. Is this what Balthazar was aiming for when he picked out the human vessels bloodlines? Are these imaginary Angels _good-looking_, from a human point of view? I've been watching Humans for my entire life, but I'm still unable to grasp the concept of physical beauty, even though I think symmetry has a lot to do with it.

I walk over to Baradiel, who looks away from the statue to glance at me, his wings folded behind his back.

"No demonic presence anywhere in Baltimore," I say in a low voice. "Sister Abigail is safe."

Baradiel turns his head to the benches facing the altar, where the frail figure of the saint we're assigned to protect is kneeling in prayer.

"We still have to stay by her side and watch over her until further notice, Castiel."

Frustrated, I close my hands into fists as I glance at the old woman who has been whispering prayers for more than an hour. We're acting under Uriel's orders, he's still in command until the commission deems me worthy of resuming my duties. For the almost one month that this situation has been going on, Uriel has been undoing my war strategy and seal safeguarding, he cancelled the arbitrary rotation and seal assignment to the soldiers. I strongly disapprove of his methods, even if they're more conventional and approved by the hierarchy. Neglecting some seals to protect others is not a wise move. Surely the demons know now that Sister Abigail is under our protection, and they won't risk fighting two Warriors of God when there are other seals left undefended, ready for the taking.

"Uriel is an outstanding soldier," I sigh, "but a poor strategist. He has no clue! There are only three living saints in the world at present, and none of them will give in to temptation without sending many prayers to Heaven that will warn us before it's too late. This seal is under no imminent threat. Using so many soldiers to follow saints around day and night is a waste of time and resources."

"You're underestimating Uriel."

"Whatever temptation the demons bring to Sister Abigail, she will never accept it. She will never sell her soul."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"

Baradiel averts his gaze to take in the architecture, the pale pink walls and columns, the murals and statues everywhere depicting Jesus and Angels. I open my mouth to insist so he gives me a straight answer, but I shut it again when the saint ends her prayer by signing herself and then stands up on her trembling knees. Bent in half, the old woman is heading for the exit, so we follow her immediately like we have been doing since Uriel commanded us to do so a month earlier. I have not even been able to check on Dean like I'm supposed to do as a Guardian, or to put some order in my office, or to give management and command advice to Uriel. This is all a gigantic waste of time. How can they expect us to stop the Apocalypse if the Garrison's General keeps changing? Anna, then me, and now Uriel? This is ridiculous.

The concern and compassion I have for the righteous man because of his unique personality, the strength of his soul, and the bond between me and him through my Grace's mark on his soul, none of this hinders me from fulfilling my mission as I have always done. I proved in the past that I know where I stand, and this isn't the first time that I have been affected more than usual by what happens to some Humans. I proved my obedience, and I will do so again.

I am an Angel of the Lord before anything else.

The Holy Rosary Church's artificial light is replaced by daylight when we step out. There is a blue sky striped with white clouds above Baltimore. Sister Abigail is shivering in the winter wind heavy with iodine, and wraps herself in a warm, thick coat. Walking around the cars parked in front of the church's pale stone facade, we cross the empty street to follow her from a good distance. I already know where she is heading. Like every day, she's going for a walk in Patterson Park, then she will attend charity events before going home to drink tea and read psalms.

"We would be better off chasing Alastair," I say flatly. "He could tell us where to find the weapon that killed my soldiers, which should give us back our advantage in the war."

Baradiel gives me a sideways glance, and after a few millennia working with him, I believe I know him well enough to tell there's something on his mind that he doesn't know how to say.

"Alastair won't be so easy to capture," he says cautiously. "He's no ordinary demon."

"I could tell. When we fought, before Anna managed to escape, I tried to exorcise him like I would easily have done to any other demon, and..."

"… and it didn't work," he ends my sentence soberly. "It would take a higher power, almost an Archangel's, to kill Alastair."

"Is Alastair one of the first demons created by Lucifer, like Lilith?"

"Not exactly."

Baradiel's fire and lava eyes are focused on Sister Abigail's hunched figure as she walks in the shade of the trees bare of their leaves. Patterson Park appears in the distance, at the very end of the street, where the saint always walks for an hour or two.

"Alastair was…" I've never seen Baradiel showing any sign of hesitation before. "… an Angel of my former division," he breathes out. "My brother-in-arms. He was one of those who chose to join Lucifer in the last Apocalypse. And... I almost did so myself." He turns his head to smile at me bitterly. "More correctly, I wanted to, but wasn't quick enough to desert. My General caught me, and as a punishment, had me transferred. He had such a bad opinion of the Garrison that he deemed it harsher than rehabilitation or execution to be sent there."

I can feel my feathers puffing up indignantly all over my wings. So the other divisional commanders sent Baradiel and Pmox to us only to _punish_ them? Never before has the Garrison been so insulted.

Is this what happened for Rzionr Nrzfm too?

But more than anything else, the very idea that Baradiel, the wise and dignified Baradiel, made the decision not so long ago to turn his back on Heaven and the Lord, is staggering.

"You wanted to follow _Lucifer_...?"

"He had strong arguments. Like most Angels of my generation, I used to have a deep respect and admiration for him in the past. Lucifer was God's favorite, you know. Many of my brothers rebelled during the last Apocalypse, and in the heat of the moment, I joined them. The worldwide destruction and slaughter, the Creation on fire... it all had an impact on our minds and triggered a lot of impulsive reactions. The same thing happened when Camael died."

Silence falls again, and only once we're surrounded by the park's vegetation wilted by the winter cold, do I speak again.

"So Alastair was one of us once, just like Azazel was... I understand now. That explains why I was unable to exorcise him."

Baradiel sternly nods.

"The Archangels severed the link between the rebels and Heaven, and their Graces drained out of their essence. But unlike Anna or Camael, they had to live among demons and not Humans - rare are those who survived, I heard over the centuries. For the ones who did, their holy spirit and the echo of their Graces deteriorated so deeply that now, they're nothing but monsters of the worst kind. Abominations."

I narrow my eyes.

"Neutralizing and capturing him will be more difficult than I thought, but we have to do it. He is the only one who knows the answers to my questions."

"Sometimes the answers are right there, Castiel. But there is nothing you can do: have you forgotten that Uriel defended us to leave our position?"

I clench my fists in frustration.

"Uriel is merely supervising me until the Council votes on my ability to handle my role as General and Guardian. Eventually they will come to realize that I am not in a state of emotional turmoil, and they will restore me to my rightful place. I am the General, not Uriel. I would not be wasting my time with his useless orders if I knew how to capture Alastair. But I don't know what to do."

"I can help you with that."

"How?"

"I know an old incantation that can be used to create a trap in the fabric of space. It was used during the Second War against the Thirty Horsemen, and during the Fifth War against the Titans. But there is a catch: it requires several Angels' energy and takes hours to complete, limited to a fixed point in space and time. I know Alastair, he's not stupid. It would take a distraction or a bait to hold him in the right place without him suspecting anything."

A few meters away, Sister Abigail is throwing bread crumbs into the lake with a soft smile, watching the ducks squabble for food. My Grace is simmering with frustration inside my vessel.

"A bait..." I whisper thoughtfully in the cold wind blowing through my hair and waving the fabric of my coat.

Where should I find a bait good enough to keep Alastair's attention distracted for hours?

* * *

"I'm looking for the mission report treatment service."

The Angel I'm talking to is sitting at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glued to a pile of files, and he keeps stamping his signature on the sheets without even sparing me a glance.

"Well, it all depends on which division's jurisdiction we're talking about.," he mutters distractedly. "And if it's an executive or operating mission, the initial credit assigned for..."

"Mission of seals protection for the Garrison."

The Angel doesn't bat an eyelid at my harsh tone, and points a direction with a vague gesture.

"Room 9274G, 453rd row, aisle R-16."

I turn my head and look at the direction he is indicating. There is no end to the Administration's department. Or at least I don't think there is. I've never seen it. As far as I can see, there are rows and columns of desks framed by translucent walls, all bearing a number. Each box contains an Angel in a black suit and a well-adjusted tie, each one sorting and filing paperwork in stern silence with their head down. There is a constant rustling of paper sheets in this perfectly uniform space. As far as I know, except for investing their human vessel recently with Balthazar, none of the Administration Angels have ever left this place since Heaven was created.

They changed the location of the office again. No one - not even the division commanders - understands all the Administration's rules, they keep evolving every other day, sometimes literally from one minute to the next. No need to thank the Angel, he has already forgotten about me and is muttering over his failure to deliver some file, so I just spread my wings and go. With a soft rustle, I make it to the right office, and drop my report on the unsteady pile on the desk of the accountant Angel assigned to the Garrison's operations. She merely casts a weary glance at me.

I have no desire to spend more time than necessary in here. This place is so lifeless and bleak, it makes me uneasy, so I waste not one second to fly out and appear back in the hallway, intent on braving Uriel's absurd commands. I will tell him everything I have to say in his office - which is actually mine. For almost two months since he assumed command of the Garrison, I never got to see Uriel once. If I didn't know better, I would believe he's avoiding me at all costs.

Two months. Two ridiculous months watching over Sister Abigail day and night with Baradiel at my side. Two long months of enduring the humiliation of accusations against me that have still not been lifted. Two months of hearing the voices of my brothers and sisters announcing that new seals have been destroyed - now fifty-two of them. Two months containing my frustration. Two months far away from Dean Winchester.

I reach out to my former office door, but pause when I notice some agitation in the hallway. It looks like the Reapers are panicking. I don't know if they have received the same order we did, but they all have a human appearance, even though they have no wings and the aura they radiate is dull and dim. I let my hand drop to my side as I stare at a group of Reapers sharing heated whispers.

"It's been over a week since Ronald last came to deliver his batch of souls! Something bad happened to him, no doubt about it."

"Maybe he has some difficulty convincing a soul to come with him? It happens to me sometimes, to spend hours or days trying to do so..."

"Tessa, you know Ronald always delivers on time. He would have let us know if he faced any trouble of that nature."

The one called Tessa - a dark-haired woman with - presses her lips together and frowns.

"Well, then let's go down there and find out for ourselves. That's the right thing to do, Luke!"

"And put us at risk?" the one called Luke hisses. "We might fall behind in our deliveries! Destiny relies on us, and the slightest delay can trigger a devastating chain reaction!"

"Then why don't you just call the boss?" asks a third Reaper, crossing his arms.

"Death is busy, Davy! We can't bother him for such unimportant matters!"

"What should we do then?"

Tessa lifts her chin defiantly.

"I will assume control over his area."

"Don’t!" says Davy through his clenched teeth. "It's too dangerous, and we're not celestial soldiers! This isn't our job!"

"Tell me what happened," I order, stepping into their group.

They all shut up instantly, sharing astonished looks, as though an Angel addressing them was unprecedented - in fact, perhaps it is.

"A Reaper went missing in the city assigned to him." As she speaks, Tessa stares at me with distrust laced with curiosity. "Greybull, Wyoming. We suspect something bad happened to Ronald..."

"_Ronald__?_"

Are they like Hcnbr who likes to be called by the name of his vessel?

Tessa clenches her jaw in annoyance.

"Yes, _Ronald_. Reapers have never had names, so for obvious practical purposes, we've assigned ourselves some at our own initiative. I have more than a dozen names myself, even though I like Tessa better. So, are you going to help us or not?"

Let's leave aside the part about the Reapers choosing their own names, that's not what I'm really interested about. A missing Reaper is a sign I've been expecting since the Garrison came back from Hell. One of the 666 seals requires the ritual sacrifice of two Reapers at the winter solstice.

It has to be it. But before I tell Uriel, I have to make sure I'm right and if I can, try to save the seal by myself. This might give the Council a favorable opinion of me.

I immediately spread my wings and the bright corridor disappears to be replaced by a cold morning in an empty street. The snow pushed against the walls is muddied up and dirty, unlike the snow layering the parked cars and the roofs of the houses. Dawn's cold rays are bathing the quiet little town. It's way too quiet.

Billowing steam rises from my mouth as I exhale, and I focus all my senses, allowing my Grace to vibrate with the Earth and the air. Limitations fade as my wings stretch to their widest span behind my back. I can feel the flow power of the Bighorn River, water moving forth and defying the freezing cold. I can feel every life form and the energy they radiate. 1847 souls, and an infinite number of animals and insects numbed by the winter cold.

No Reaper in sight. Absolutely none. But there is a faint stench of sulfur lingering in a small part of the city, and I can sense a place that my Grace is unable to reach. It's like a black hole in my perception. With a flap of wings, I fly there and stop in front of a building - a funeral home, I believe - partly covered in Enochian markings glowing brightly. I have seen this kind of markings before. In Hell.

This building is warded against the Angels, I won't even try to step closer. I can already feel them repelling my Grace, even though I'm standing meters away. If I get any closer, it will inflict me severe pain and most likely harm me as well.

I stiffen when the door opens and two demons step out, their presence suddenly bursting into my range of perception extending miles around. I hastily contain my celestial energy inside my vessel, wrapping it tightly around Jimmy's soul, and trying my best to remain unnoticed.

"We're on it, but the Reapers are too wary, Alastair... We're hunting them down in many different locations, but they're all getting away from us now that they know that one of them disappeared!"

One of the demons is Alastair, the King of Hell, the one who tortured Dean, and the one who will help me stop the Garrison soldiers from being killed and possibly even stop the Apocalypse. He is possessing a large and rather old man with white hair, and there is a grin twisting up the corners of his lips.

"Be patient... I know Reapers. They can't stand the natural order to be broken, they won't let this city cheat Death for much longer. Soon they will deliver us another one on a silver plate."

That's all I needed to hear. There is an idea that has been growing in my holy spirit for a month, ever since I talked with Baradiel about capturing Alastair. And it blows away all my intentions to save the seal and inform Uriel. It's just one seal like the others - like all the seals that Uriel let break since he assumed command. Alastair is the one leading Hell's army, he's killing our brothers and sisters, he has been planning the Apocalypse ever since Dean killed Azazel. His capture is more important than protecting one seal.

Uriel would disagree with me, but he's only commanding until I get my position back. _I_'m the General, and I'm going to prove the hierarchy that my tactics are more efficient, that I'm worthy of my role and not in any way emotionally compromised.

I have been thinking these last few weeks. I know _exactly_ what could keep Alastair in one spot and keep him distracted long enough so that he won't notice the trap closing in on him.

Dean Winchester will be my bait.

With a wing beat, I fly the distance from Wyoming to Maryland in a fraction of a second. I burst into physical reality in the middle of Baltimore's Church of the Holy Rosary, right in front of Baradiel, who merely raises an eyebrow when he sees me. There is a choked cry behind me, and I turn my head just enough to catch sight of Sister Abigail frantically signing herself and muttering a prayer.

"You took a while to submit our report," Baradiel says flatly. "Sister Abigail noticed that I had been watching her for over an hour so she came to pray with me."

"Oh, sweet Jesus…" the old woman breathes with anguish on her wrinkled face. "You, you appeared out of nowhere... who are you?"

"I guess we should wipe her memory out now," suggests my older brother, staring at her unblinkingly.

"No. We need to let this mission aside. I tracked down Alastair. Do you still wish to help me?"

Baradiel frowns and steps closer, our noses almost touching.

"Are you suggesting an insurrection?"

"This has nothing to do with disobedience," I hiss, closing my fists. "I am still the General of the Garrison, even though the rumors against me made me lose my position. Is your loyalty to Uriel or to me?"

Baradiel takes a few seconds to answer, during which the saint stares at both of us with obvious distress.

"I will help you," he whispers at last, averting his gaze, "If only to bring Alastair back under control. He has fallen far too deeply for me to still call him my brother."

"Will you be able to set the trap before the winter solstice?"

"Only if there are at least three of us joining our Graces. The more we are, the more effective the incantations will be."

"Levanael won't refuse to be a part of this. She has my absolute trust. Time is running out, let's go."

"What about Sister Abigail?"

We both turn our eyes to the Human who just holds her necklace's crucifix pendant tighter in her hand, like she's about to faint. Sister Abigail is a true saint with a pure soul. She will never give in to a demon's temptation. But just to be safe...

"We are Angels of the Lord," I declare in a hoarse voice as I face her. "Your devotion's purity makes your soul valuable to Heaven. If a demon ever offers you anything improper, pray to me, and I will burn the demon to ashes. My name is Castiel."

To add emphasis to my speech, I release my energy to flood the city and rise into the sky, gathering black clouds that hurl down a fierce lightning bolt that lights up the church. The shadow of our unfurling wings seems to make a strong impression on the saint, who fortunately is alone in the church. She falls to her knees with an ecstatic expression of worship that brightens her aged face.

We disappear in a flap of our wings.

For the very first time in my life, I am deserting a mission that was assigned to me. I should be ashamed, but I'm not. This is for the greater good, and Uriel is not my Father or even a hierarchical superior.

* * *

Invisible, I fold my wings in my back and take a look around. The pub where I just landed in and where the Winchester brothers are sitting face to face is almost empty. A waitress is laying a burger on a plate in front of Dean, while his younger brother is frowning at his laptop.

"Still nothing?" asks Dean as he’s taking a bite of his burger.

I slowly step closer while Sam shakes his head with a sigh.

"Some home burglaries, a bank robbery, domestic violence charges, and a teenage runaway. Nothing for us, anyway."

I halt just in front of the table, hesitant for a moment. What I am about to do is strictly forbidden without proper authorization from the hierarchy.

Dean heaves a frustrated sigh.

"We haven't had anything to do since that goddamn siren," he mumbles with a full mouth. "I'm getting tired of just sitting around while you browse the net all day long. I need some action."

Sam raises an eyebrow and keeps typing on his keyboard.

"Yeah, 'cause we handled that whole siren thing so brilliantly." Even to me, the sarcasm in Sam’s voice is obvious. "If it wasn't for Bobby, you would have slit my throat open without a second thought."

With barely contained anger, Dean swallows his mouthful and drops his burger back on the plate, then points a finger at his brother.

"You were quite eager to waste me off too, if I recall."

What are they talking about? It looks like the last two boring months I spent following an old woman around have been busy for the Winchester brothers.

"Can't we stop bringing it up? Remember what Bobby said before he left! We need a fresh start!"

"You're the one who started," Dean scoffs. "And easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been let down and betrayed once again by your brother. I've never betrayed you. Never."

"Sure," Sam says, narrowing his eyes. "What about your siren being a _dude_, don't you also want to talk about that?"

"Great." Dean pulls a face, moving his chair to get up from table. "Now I've lost my appetite, thanks a lot."

I choose this moment to reach out and touch both their foreheads with my fingertips, planting an illusion into their minds. I haven't done this since Jesus' apostles. I almost forgot how easy it is.

Sam frowns, genuinely thinking he's hearing his phone ringing, pulls it out of his pocket and checks the number he believes is displayed on the screen.

"It’s Bobby," he tells Dean. "Yeah, Bobby? What’s up?"

Still looking angry, Dean stands up and steps around the table then walks away. I let my Grace's hold release him, focusing my energy solely on Sam, making him imagine his surrogate father's voice, picking details from his memories to create a convincing illusion of a conversation.

_« I got something for you to hunt, boys. »_

I don't enjoy hiding this way, manipulating their minds to trick them into doing what I need them to do, but I think I know the Winchesters well enough to know that they're not like Angels, they just don't obey orders. Should I try to engage them willingly in my strategy, they will ask questions, complain, object to being used as bait, and waste precious time I don't have. Dean, especially, will oppose me because it seems to be part of his personality. Which is weird, considering that I saw in his memories that he has always been perfectly obedient to John Winchester and Bobby Singer.

"I'm listening."

_« You got your computer around? Take a look at what's goin’ on in Greybull, Wyoming. A local got shot right in the heart and he's still kickin'. »_

"Wait a second, I’ll check."

Sam squeezes his phone between his ear and his shoulder and quickly types on his keyboard.

"Maybe he just got lucky? There's been some medical breakthroughs, you know. You really think it's something supernatural?"

_« _ _Lucky_ _? A 9mm shot straight into the heart, lucky? That sounds normal to you? Bullshit! »_

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Dean venting his frustration over the broken jukebox.

"No, no, no, you're right, it's definitely weird."

_« You go over there and see what's going on, _ _you hear me_ _? »_

"Okay, Bobby. Thanks."

Dean comes back to his brother, unknowingly walking through my right wing. I fly away as silently as I can. Their voices fade out and I reappear in Wyoming, high up in the sky, which makes the city look small, expanding along the river.

I'm not used to staying static in the air anymore. Or at least, I had never experienced it before in a human body. I never had the need for this, we fly so fast when we're using a vessel, hovering in the air is pointless when a single flap of wings is enough to take us wherever we want to go. Besides, the instinct ingrained in Jimmy Novak's soul is growing restless, seeking balance, ground contact and gravity pinning him to this planet.

The wind is blowing hard, flapping my coat behind me, gusting under my shirt. My tie flutters and sways briefly and then is tossed over my shoulder. There are dark clouds surrounding us and engulfing me momentarily, hiding the sight of the city from my eyes.

"Are you sure the righteous man will come?"

Baradiel's voice rose in the wind, and I shift one wing to sway my body in his direction. My older brother's arms are crossed and his wings wide open. The mist wrapped around us is coating his clothes and long hair pulled into a bun with ice fractals. A few long locks of dark brown hair are falling out of it and across his sharp, young face.

"I asked him in a way he could not refuse me."

On his true face showing through, his three eyes are glowing like embers.

"The trap is going to take a long time to set, Castiel. We should start now, there isn't much time left before solstice."

I nod sternly, and focus to send a call to Levanael. Out of the entire Garrison, she is the one I can trust for this Improvised mission. I know she won't betray me, she won't tell Uriel or Zachariah. She has, after all, self-confessed her absolute loyalty to me.

_ **Levanael, I need your assistance. Meet me in the clouds above Greybull, and don't tell anyone.** _

I barely end my sentence before I hear a soft rustling of wings mixes in the wind, and my sister appears in front of us, obviously confused. Her hair is swaying and swirling in the wind around her face, and her white dress is clinging to her body's curves.

"Cas? What's going on?"

She tilts her head to the side, staring intently at me.

"An opportunity to capture the King of Hell has arisen, but I know Uriel won't let me seize it. He might even ask permission to the hierarchy to obliterate Greybull instead of being subtle. I need your strength to capture Alastair. Will you help me?"

A smile grazes her lips, and she nods without the slightest hesitation.

"You know I will always be on your side, little brother."

I share a look with Baradiel who is uncrossing his arms.

"We need to join our hands and combine our Graces while chanting the Enochian incantations I'm going to teach you. We will have to repeat them over and over again until we have gathered enough energy to encircle the city and close the trap on the demon. Let's begin."

We hold hands together, forming a ring with our arms and our wings whose tips graze each other as we hover high above the city. Baradiel utters rough, solid syllables, his human voice echoing with his celestial one. We do the same with our eyes closed. Our radiant Graces unwind into long strands of light merging together, vibrant with power.

* * *

Jimmy's soul is screaming inside of me, along with the souls of Baradiel and Levanael's vessels. Our intertwined fingers are gushing with liquid energy, and a radiant orb is floating in our midst, ready to be used at last. A phantom, three-dimensional replica of Greybull is floating in the orb's center, which is shrinking progressively in volume to target our objective, closing in on the enemy. I had to interrupt our work many times to check on the Winchester brothers and get them back on track by convincing Sam that Bobby had new information... all of which delayed our spell, and I feared that the trap would never be ready in time. But against all odds, not only is it ready, but the Winchester brothers actually saved the seal.

Tightening my hold on my siblings' hands, with my jaw clenched, I look down at the city far below us. I can feel the demon's presence coming out of the structure warded against Angels.

"Alastair is exposed! We must close the trap!"

The radiant globe is slowly shrinking, leaving the river, the cemetery, the streets, to gradually narrow down to the funeral home where Dean's soul is stepping back from Alastair. Too focused on the righteous man, the demon is talking to him as he moves forward, oblivious to the energy aimed at him.

"Now!" I order my soldiers.

The sphere instantly burst like a balloon and hurls out a bright lightning bolt that strikes the city with great precision, trapping and beaming Alastair directly to the interrogation room that I arranged on Earth for him.

I can't hold back a victory grin just knowing him powerless and strapped to the demon trap that I designed especially for him.

"Levanael, you can go back to your initial mission. Baradiel, make sure that Alastair is properly restrained in the trap. Don't say anything to Uriel or to the hierarchy, I want to inform them personally!"

They comply, and in a wingbeat I appear right behind Dean's soul left alone in the empty street. He hasn't seen me yet.

"What the hell?" he whispers with palpable fright.

"Guess again."

I haven't felt so light and cheerful since the day I raised him out of Hell. His exposed soul looks the same as it did when I was holding it in my hand, it's now floating in the air surrounded by the approximate human form it maintains, having recently left the body. Radiant, strong and righteous, it glows with a rare beauty for a Human. This is the soul from a lineage chosen and beloved by God. And there is a bluish glimmer in its center echoing with my essence, so clear and distinct now without the flesh-and- blood body concealing the soul - the sliver of my Grace that I unknowingly imprinted on Dean when I grabbed him in Hell.

Dean merely stares at me, speechless.

"What just happened?" I continue, filled with joy and victory. "You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair."

Dean doesn't seem to share my excitement, he still hasn't uttered a word.

"Dean, this was a _victory_," I say insistently.

"Well, no thanks to you," he finally snaps back.

Now that his soul is bared to my eyes, I find his emotions easier to read and understand. There is clearly distrust in the agitation of this delicate orb of glowing energy, along with barely veiled resentment. As though he had thought that Heaven had forsaken him. That _I_ had forsaken him.

Dean Winchester, once again, doesn't realize that what he doesn't see is just as real, sometimes even more so, than what he perceives through his five senses.

"What makes you say that?"

"You were here the whole time?"

I can hear the same indignant tone of reproach in his voice that made me lose my temper when he showed me disrespect in his dream.

"Enough of it," I reply, averting my gaze.

I don't want to ruin this victory against Hell and the hierarchy with another argument with Dean. I haven't been this happy in months, and I would like to enjoy it just for a little while longer, before I have to face Alastair to extract the information from him, and the hierarchy to justify myself for my initiative.

"Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt!" Dean hisses in a harsh voice heavy with sarcasm.

I guess he's referring to something that occurred in the funeral home that we don't know about because of the markings. Even so, I would only have interfered if the Winchester brothers were in real danger, which was not required given the absence of functional Reapers.

I should leave now, but I can't bring myself to do so. I only wanted to praise and thank Dean, to share my joy with him, and now I feel the need to explain myself. So that Dean understands me and someday will even trust me.

"That script on the funeral home… we couldn't penetrate it."

"That was angel-proofing?"

"Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?"

Dean's soul glows with disbelief while his shadowy figure raises his eyebrows high.

"You recruited us?"

Admitting that I manipulated them doesn't necessarily work in my favor, but I might as well reveal this to him, and hide the real reason why he is here. Using Dean as bait was the only way to distract Alastair and make his capture possible. I think I have Dean Winchester figured out well enough now to know that he wouldn't be pleased to find out about this.

"That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal."

"That was you?"

I lower my head, uncomfortable under Dean's accusing glare. His bare soul hides none of his anger and disgust. Interrupting the incantations to insert this illusion into Sam's mind to get the Winchester brothers back on track had been risky, but necessary. I was only trying to assist them, to provide them with useful information... but the righteous man judging my actions would almost make me feel... shame.

Which is completely irrational.

"If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?"

Now not only is he insolent, but he is also showing dishonesty. I know exactly what his reaction would have been if I had just walked into that brewery and asked him to do what I said without question.

"_Because,_" I say with a hint of annoyance. "whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite."

Dean merely rolls his eyes.

"So, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?"

What’s his point?

"Yes."

"These are good people," Dean says vehemently. "What, you think you can make a few exceptions?"

This naive, dualistic conception of reality in the righteous man's soul will never fail to amaze me. Was it the ordeals he went through in Hell and his life as a hunter trained like a soldier that shaped him so? I can only assume that this inclination to compartmentalize good and evil makes it easier for him to comprehend the world and to cope with his past.

What he is asking for makes no sense at all. Why should kindness spare some people from death? A good person should be granted eternity, then, according to this logic? All Humans eventually die to get to Heaven or Hell.

"To everything there is a season."

"You made an exception for me," he insists.

I press my lips together as I look at the melting snow on the wet ground. Dean doesn't realize that Heaven is organized in hierarchical structures, departments and divisions, and that orders always come from above. I broke the rules by taking this initiative that led to Alastair being caught, but under normal circumstances an ordinary Angel has no power of decision. No one can possibly decide to give eternal life to common Humans just because they are _good people_. Destiny and the natural order would never allow it.

I look back at Dean. I did rescue him from Hell, but I was forty years too late, and not only was he down there because of me, but I raised him out only to put him through even more painful things.

"You're different."

I silently stare at him for a few more seconds before I fly away.

The joy I felt is gone now, chased away by all the work ahead of me. I have to obtain a confession from Alastair and try my best to defeat the prophecy.

To spare the Apocalypse to all Creation. To Humanity.

To Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"I really enjoyed chopping Dean up to the bone while I was singing, you know. It warmed my heart and made my work so much more pleasurable."_


	33. On the art of torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's note:** Today is my best friend Jackallh's birthday! I can't be with him because of the pandemic, so I'm offering him some writing and translation instead.
> 
> **Previously:** After he refused to resort to threats against Dean, Castiel has been temporarily downgraded and is on probation. Uriel assumed command in the meantime, and led Castiel to Anna to execute her, but she managed to get her Grace back and escape. Assigned to a mission with Baradiel, Castiel locates Alastair who is attempting to break a seal, and successfully captures him with Baradiel and Levanael's help.
> 
> This chapter takes place in **season 4 episode 16**.

Through the skin of my two fingertips pressed on the demon's - the fallen Angel's - forehead, my Grace seeps into this possessed body and heals all wounds in a split second.

"So kind of you," Alastair hums.

Shackled to the elaborate trap I designed and built to restrain him - combining Enochian spells, markings made of salt and consecrated earth - the demon is staring at me, smirking, his eyes half-open with insolent carelessness.

"Scared you might stain your fancy tie with all that blood? You know, _real_ artists do get their hands dirty..."

Instead of reacting to his provocations, I splash holy water on his face. His wet skin immediately starts blistering, releasing smoke that reeks of sulfur, then entire flaps come off when I keep pouring water directly on it. The burn, however, merely draws a grunt of discomfort from him, and then a patronizing snort. I've been questioning him for hours now, and he has not once let out a single cry. The best I could get was for him to wince a bit, but he mostly seems to be enjoying it. I have tried so hard, and this is the fifth time now I'm healing him to start over, still hoping I'll find what will make him talk at last.

"Oh, don't be like that, c'mon... This should all be about having fun! Why not play some music in the background to brighten up the mood? I really enjoyed chopping Dean up to the bone while I was singing, you know. It warmed my heart and made my work so much more pleasurable. For thirty years, I sang Cheek to Cheek to him, every day. I started humming before I touched him, even before I walked up to him, and he was already shaking all over. It was so lovely to watch him dreading what new torment I was going to put him through. Peel him down to the bone strip by strip? Stab some razor blades into his gums? Or I would be in the mood for some sweet, sweet raping? And when he was expecting the worst, I enjoyed sitting there and just talking, leaving him to fear the moment when I would finally start. That subtle touch of finesse and psychology, that's what you're lacking."

I look down to the torture instruments on the table, trying not to react to his provocations. I know everything Dean has endured in Hell, including all the gruesome details. Getting angry would be pointless and unproductive.

There's nothing I haven't already tried, I'm running out of ideas. I never thought it would be so hard to get him to confess. Demons are usually quite easy to persuade. They have no sense of honor or duty, and they prioritize their own interests and survival over anything else.

Alastair is not like them. In fact, he even seems to enjoy himself there, taunting and mocking me at every one of my attempts.

I carefully pick up the scalpel, which earns me a condoning sigh from the one who is supposed to be my victim - he rolls his eyes, yawning loudly.

"Oh no, no, noooo... This is so plain and _ordinary_! I think I'm going to die of boredom..."

Ignoring him the best I can, I take a step forward and start slicing open his abdomen, cutting through the flesh and up to his chest in a smooth and clean gesture. Dark blood gushes out of the gaping wound, spewing gooey bowels hanging down and sliding on the ground with a wet slap.

"This is the problem with you celestials... you have _no_ imagination. It's dry, heartless, no personal touch. Surgical. I can tell you're not enjoying it. It would make no difference to you if you were filling out paperwork. I could teach you all of my favorite tricks, you wouldn't do it right."

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and looks down to watch my bloodstained hands slide on the scalpel as I thrust my arm deep into the wound to reach up and grab his heart. The warm muscle pulses in my fist, and I stare into the demon's eyes.

"How are you killing the Angels? Where is your weapon?"

Alastair scoffs at me with a large, twisted grin, and a trickle of dark blood slides down his chin as he whispers an inch from my face.

"It's so cute yet appalling... It's like watching a toddler doodling around with clumsy fingers on a master canvas. There's no finesse to it. You know, I'm growing bored. Let's make things a little more interesting, shall we?"

His eyes roll back in their sockets, only leaving two glassy white globes. Suddenly, they revert back to normal, and the demon's facial expression changes radically. The look on his face radiates sheer terror and intense suffering. A convulsion seizes him and a thick blood clot, then a scarlet gush, spurts out of his mouth - and from his throat rises the most agonizing scream I have ever heard in my entire existence.

I open my eyes wide when I realize the atrocity Alastair just committed. He's using the soul of the Human he's possessing as a shield, and retreated inside, leaving him to endure all of the torture. I sharply let go of the beating heart, withdraw my blood-stained hand and once again stab my fingers on his forehead, healing him instantly.

I had not anticipated this when I designed the trap.

I do my best to disregard the terrified weeping of the Human who frantically cries out for help, calling out for his wife and sons, and I crouch down to touch the Enochian sigils on the ground. They glow and sparkle with the effect of my Grace when I apply a minor modification in the symbols in order to exclude any possibility for the demon to manipulate the soul he cohabits with. As soon as I do this, the human voice dies out, replaced by Alastair's husky and nasal one.

"Don't you want to have another go at pulling my teeth out, angel? That was rather entertaining, almost enjoyable. I'm starting to pity you, I kind of want to pretend that it hurts just to make you happy. I'm quite good at faking, and it would be less awkward for both of us. Would you like that, hm?"

A strong flapping of wings shuts him up when I was cleaning the scalpel, and I turn my head to see Uriel folding his wings behind his back. He casts a glance at Alastair.

"Did he talk?" he asks in a neutral tone.

"No."

"I suspected. Follow me."

In a brief wingbeat, we reappear in the next room. Through the dirty door window, I can see the demon smiling at us wryly. Uriel stares at me gravely, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Zachariah wasn't pleased, but I worked it out, Castiel. You're on probation, and any infraction like this could have sent you straight to rehabilitation, or executed."

"What did you tell him?"

"I claimed I was the one who decided to give you this order. I blamed my lack of experience on the job, and he bought it. What on Earth were you thinking? Do you even realize what's been happening these days?"

With my eyes still on Alastair, I clench my fists.

"I did what was necessary to save our brothers and sisters, Uriel. Once Alastair talks, we will finally know what weapon demons are using, and then we will have leverage to win this war."

Uriel averts his gaze, clenching his jaw, clearly experiencing intense frustration. His wings are twitching as he grazes the surface of the table with his fingertips.

"You're right. But the Council thinks that we won't be able to get a confession from Alastair. They are currently discussing the possibility of recruiting Dean Winchester to do the job."

I snap my head to my brother, meeting his eyes at last.

_"What?"_

Uriel scowls.

"If he has not spoken by nightfall, this is what will happen. They're ratifying this option as we speak. As it turns out, your little monkey happens to be some kind of torture artist, the best student Alastair has had for millennia. The student even seems to surpass the master."

A shiver runs through my Grace and I look down at my hands stained with blood. In a wave of energy, my skin and clothes are spotless again.

I can still feel the sensation of having Dean's soul in my hand, along with the filth I washed off from his pure essence. The filth born out of pleasure taken in others' suffering, the first stage in a soul's degradation.

"Dean cannot do this. I'm sure that after some effort, we will manage to break Alastair's will."

"It's pretty unlikely in just a few hours. The hierarchy wants quick results."

"A few hours? Did you even try to convince them to wait a few days? Or to look for some other way?"

Uriel snorts with open contempt.

"Why would have I done that? Your righteous man has to be of some use to us. He's been nothing but trouble since we raised him from Hell. But feel free to go and convince them, if that's what you want. On probation or not, you're still the true General, after all."

I nod quietly. If there is a chance, however small, to spare Dean yet another ordeal, I want to take it.

"Where are they?"

"In a newcomer's Paradise, Agathe Stanford, who died in..."

"... in her bed at the age of 85, I know. She was born on a Thursday."

Uriel nods and slowly steps towards the door, his aura lacking its usual energy, and his wings sagging behind his back.

"I will try to get a confession out of him while you try to convince them."

"Thank you, Uriel."

With a flap of my wings, I leave the abandoned meat storage warehouse I had selected to keep Alastair in, and fly from Earth to Heaven. Locating the human Paradise that I'm looking for in the countless souls floating around the Axis Mundi only takes me a fraction of a second.

I burst into a cosy and warm living room with half-open glass doors leading to a garden. The grass is rustling under the falling rain, and there is a gentle breeze bringing a scent of wet earth and cut grass into the house's warmth. Several armchairs and a couch piled with cushions are set around a small round mahogany table. On the embroidered lace tablecloth, a mimosa arrangement in a vase. Next to it is a tray laden with pastel pink porcelain cups, filled to the brim with steaming tea.

All eyes turn to me, everyone staring at me blankly. The very small number of Council Angels present is surprising. Only four of them - Zachariah, Ecanus, Brap and Rgoan. This explains why such a small Paradise was selected for this meeting.

I glance at Agathe's soul. Sitting in an armchair with a soft blanket on her knees, the old woman is sipping a cup of tea, unaware of the presence of intruders in her memory. She's smiling peacefully while petting the illusory cat on her equally illusory lap. A gentle melody with saxophones and piano is floating in the air.

"Castiel?"

I look down at Ecanus who, comfortably seated with his legs crossed, puts his cup of tea down on the matching plate he's holding in his hand. He's gazing up at me with polite confusion in his brown eyes, his face shaded with a thin beard. Standing there, teapot in hand, Zachariah is munching on a pastry and staring at me with both annoyance and curiosity. As for Brap, he's slumped down, almost lying on the couch, spinning his empty cup around his finger using the handle, glaring up at me over his tiny round glasses.

"I'm here to give my input about what is to happen to my prisoner."

My statement brings about a tense silence during which I look at Rgoan, his chiselled and tanned face frozen in an expression of resentment. His hair and beard are so blond they almost look white. He's leaning against a wall, holding under his arm an entire box filled with pastries and cakes. He is slowly, darkly chewing.

Zachariah is finally the one to break the awkward silence.

"Castiel!" he says with a smirk. "Please, take a seat! Would you like some cake? Perhaps a nice cup of tea?"

He points at the couch with his chin, and Brap rolls his eyes and sighs loudly before drawing back his legs and sitting down properly to clear a place for me beside him.

"Yes, thank you."

I sit down on the cleared space, two lavender-scented cushions hugging my back as I feel myself sinking into the soft leather, almost like I'm getting sucked into the couch. If I am to gain the Council's approval, engaging in their activities can only be good for my interests, from a purely strategic point of view. Even more so since out of the four of them, only two do not openly dislike me.

When my wing brushes against Brap's, he huffs and brings his wings tighter together behind his back to avoid contact.

Zachariah hands me a cup and a soft, pink cake that I pick up between my fingers, then he sits down as well on a chair.

"So nice of you to join us to share your expertise in torture, Castiel, but as it happens, we were just about to end the meeting. Our decision is made."

Zachariah sips his tea contentedly, keeping his smaller finger up.

"Uriel is quite good at drawing information from demons," I argue in a hoarse voice, "along with his undeniable destruction skills. He will make Alastair talk."

"Oh please, I never said you and your soldiers weren't skilled in torture," Zachariah says. "Uriel is good, very good, but Alastair isn't just any demon! It will probably take quite some time to break him!"

"Is that an issue? There's no hurry, my soldiers can secure the remaining seals while we work on Alastair."

"If Alastair hasn't broken in an hour, he won't break in a thousand years. It's pointless and dangerous to keep the King of Hell captive. We will have to kill him as soon as possible."

"Besides, a discharged General has no say in the matter," says Rgoan as he sets his cake box back on the table, making the porcelain cups on it clink.

Ecanus frowns disapprovingly.

"He is merely suspended for the time of the investigation. Unless charges are proven against him, he keeps his rank."

"He doesn't deserve the rank he was given!" Rgoan snarls. "If they had listened to me during the discussions and voting, the General of the Garrison would have been ME, and let me tell you I would have handled this whole situation so much better!"

Zachariah rolls his eyes like Humans do to convey their annoyance.

"Don't be silly, Rgoan. How much longer are you going to resent me for this?"

"Without you voting for Castiel instead of me, I would have won the position! Of course I'm going to hold a grudge for at least three or four thousand years!"

"No offense," says Ecanus, arching up an eyebrow, "but you already occupied too many positions, and Castiel was a better choice because he knew the Garrison from the inside. I voted against you, too. You're already in charge of the Archives and General of the Insect Division. Don't you think that's enough?"

Rgoan snaps his mouth shut, looking even more offended. As for me, I can't help being curious.

"You're the General of the Insect Division, Rgoan?"

"Yes, why?" he hisses.

"Why did you have Rzionr Nrzfm transferred to the Garrison? Your report described him as an excellent soldier."

Rgoan scoffs and a smug smile twists the corners of his lips up.

"Because he's a first-class pain in the ass, a troublemaker, insolent and rude. Call it a gift for Anael who was annoying the hell out of us, always asking for more soldiers. But that's not the point! Zachariah, Castiel is clearly not up to the task, and I don't get why you're so lenient with him!"

Zachariah makes a high-pitched snicker as he puts his cup back on his plate.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Rgoan? I personally recommended Castiel for this position right after Anna was sent to rehabilitation, and no matter how many silly rumors you spread, I stand by what I've always said: Castiel is a good, rational and obedient soldier. And I answer for him with my own life."

Rgoan scowls, crossing his legs.

"Have a taste, Castiel, before the icing melts and the tea gets cold."

At Zachariah's suggestion, I look down at the cake and the cup I'm still holding in my hands - I completely forgot about them. Ever since I invested this flesh and bone armor, I haven't once tried to ingest food. It seems somehow inappropriate. And so organic.

I bring up the cup to my lips, vanilla and sugar aromas invading my nostrils. I tilt my head back and the hot liquid pours down my trachea and fills Jimmy Novak's empty stomach. I also take a bite out of the cake, swallowing it without really taking the time to chew. A lingering taste of sugar, chocolate and vanilla coats my tongue and palate.

And now, I can feel this body's metabolism getting into action, initiating a digestion process. I interrupt it by making all the food disappear from my body with a single crackle of my Grace. I have better things to do than digesting food.

I put down the cup on the coffee table with a clicking sound, and stare at the Angels.

"Actually, Uriel is the one who advised me to come and talk to you myself. Using the... skills Dean acquired in Hell would be a major mistake."

"Why?" Brap pulls his glasses up over his nose. "He tortured for years in Hell, and at least Alastair is not an innocent soul."

"You don't understand." I can feel myself growing irritated. "The soul that Humans carry inside of them is shaped and altered by each of their actions. I managed to cleanse the stain from Dean's, but he still has his memories and all the guilt attached to them. I'm not confident that I can re-purify the soul if it gets tainted to the same extent! I saw what Hell did to him, and what you want to ask of him will damage his soul, revive in him the taste of cruelty, and ruin his redemp–"

** _Castiel!_ **

I pause when a voice echoes into my Grace, slouched deep into the couch next to Brap who raises his eyebrows as he waits for me to end my sentence.

This is really not the time.

** _Not now, Levanael. I'm in a meeting, try again later._ **

"I'm not an expert in feelings," drawls Rgoan, smirking, "but I'm pretty sure he's displaying feelings here."

"Do your research," Zachariah sighs. "You really are clueless. I'm sure you wouldn't bother to tell compassion, sadness or even hatred apart."

"It all looks just the same to me. Brain chemicals that make the monkeys twist their face's skin and excrete bodily fluids through every pore, I honestly don't see the difference."

"I'm not excreting _anything_," I say, offended. "I'm a Guardian and I'm only trying to protect Dean, which is the mission I was given."

"Well, you're overprotecting him," says Ecanus. "After all, he might enjoy torturing the one who used to torture him, you never know. I believe humans love vengeance, don't they?"

** _Castiel, listen to me, little brother! We were wrong about the demons' weapon! Oh, we were so, so wrong!_ **

I wriggle up from the couch and stand up, wings spread, feeling my Grace freezing in my veins.

** _Levanael? What's happening?_ **

"Come on, don't get mad over this, Castiel!" says Zachariah jokingly. "You can't deny he's got a point. You're such a mother hen."

"This is not why I'm upset. One of my soldiers is in trouble."

"So what?" Brap rolls his eyes. "This is Uriel's problem now, not yours."

Silence pulses through the link between our Graces connected by celestial channels of communication.

** _Levanael, answer me!_ **

Zachariah slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up, soon followed by Ecanus and Brap.

"Right! Enough beating around the bush. We need to resort to the most reliable methods to get Alastair's confession and then dispose of him. The decision has been taken: Castiel, your mission is to go with Uriel to bring Dean to this torture room of yours. I want results."

"We need results," Ecanus nods. "This is an absolute necessity."

My sister's voice rises in my head again, barely a broken whisper.

** _Castiel, the weapon, it's... he's..._ **

My heart skips a beat. My sister is hurt.

I spread my wings to go and help her, but then our bond shatters with an agonizing shriek that chills me to the core.

"Levanael..." I whisper in a breath, opening my eyes wide.

It's too late. I've heard this kind of scream before, and this sensation of emptiness left by a severed link. My sister is dead.

Levanael is dead.

My wings drop to my sides, brushing against Agathe's soul who keeps petting her cat, nodding her head contentedly to the rhythm of the music.

"I expect the mission report from you and Uriel tomorrow at dawn! I have no doubt that Dean will do very well."

Zachariah stuffs one last cake into his mouth and pats my shoulder before flying away, followed by the other Angels.

Left on my own, I stand very still with my fists clenched and my Grace whirling inside of me.

This is the seventh Angel of the Garrison who died since I became General.

Zachariah is right. This has to stop.

* * *

Fire crackling can barely be heard with the car alarms blaring. A light rain hits the pavement. Water puddles are mirroring the night sky, where thick clouds veil the bright stars. I can feel my face and clothes getting wet.

I could shield out the rain with my aura, but I don't bother. Not when I know what I'm about to find. Not when one more burning failure robs me of my best ally in the Garrison, my most loyal sister.

Jaw clenched, I examine the metallic piles of cars with broken windows. My sister's call was coming from here, and clearly there's been a fierce battle. The least I would expect from Levanael, one of my best soldiers.

I walk among upside down vehicles whose lights are flashing and overwhelm my vessel's senses.

I raise one hand and send a wave of my Grace all around to deactivate the mechanics and scan the area for Levanael with cautious hope.

The steady rain swishing that slowly extinguishes the flickering fire grows clearer, and now my perception sharpens to the point I can track and feel the movement and velocity of each raindrop. There is no trace of Grace or holy spirit anywhere. But behind the gasoline smell is another one, harder to detect - the coppery scent of blood, mixed with burnt ozone.

Glass fragments are crunching under my feet as I step around an upside down vehicle. And there is Levanael's empty, flesh and blood vessel lying on the wet ground, surrounded from each side with the unmistakable trace of her wings burned into the asphalt. Angel feather ashes – slaying an Angel is an unspeakable sin, a sacrilege I have witnessed far too many times in my life. Her pale blond hair lays around her face like a halo, and her white dress is soaked, hugging her curves. There is a dark red stain on the white fabric, so I crouch down to push the ripped side of her dress aside, exposing a blood-filled hole in her throat. This is the exact same kind of wound I found on Pmox and Miz's lifeless vessels.

Her face is now stripped of Levanael's true appearance showing through. It's nothing but an empty shell, a lump of flesh starting to rot already. Still, I can't help but brush her cheek with my fingertips. I can still hear her gentle, light tone of voice, feel the warmth of her hand on my shoulder and see her tender smile.

"Goodbye, sister."

It’s over. Levanael has returned to the flow of Creation from which Father drew and shaped her.

Demons killed her. I have reservations about forcing Dean to torture, but orders are orders, and he may succeed in putting an end to these deaths.

I don't want to see any more of my brothers and sisters die.

There are sirens blaring in the distance and getting closer. With a last farewell glance at Levanael's empty body, I spread my wings and fly away.

* * *

"I was waiting for you."

Uriel's deep voice greets me the instant I burst into the abandoned warehouse. The room next to the one in which Alastair is imprisoned is filled with shadows and stifling silence. Sitting on a chair with his elbows on his knees, my brother has his back to me - the misty shape of his wings is tucked down, the tips of his feathers brushing against the dusty ground. Barely perceptible, his aura is clearly dulled.

With his chin resting on his clasped hands, he turns his head just enough to look at me from the corner of his eye. The shadows on his vessel's face are concealing his eyes.

"Levanael is dead," he declares sourly.

I fold my wings back with barely audible rustling and take a step forward.

"I know. I just saw her remains."

Uriel frowns.

"How did you...?"

"She reached out to me."

Uriel rises to his feet, and with a snap of his wings, appears right in front of me, only inches away from my face, his eyes diving into mine with defiance and... _dread_?

"What did she tell you?"

I hold his gaze, unblinkingly.

"That we were wrong about the weapon demons are using to slay us. But she died in battle before she could get more specific."

The tension in my brother's shoulders loosens up. There is something weird about his attitude. For a split second I could swear I saw a flash of _relief_ across his face. But it was probably due to the shadows covering and altering his facial expressions.

"Our sister reached out to me as well," he says in a softer voice. "But like you, I was too late. I saw her falling to the ground and I attacked the demons, in vain. They were too fast, and I was unable to spot their weapon either."

We share a look until I blink and lower my eyes.

"Levanael's death is a great loss for the Garrison. She was loyal, righteous, and skilled in combat and strategy."

Uriel clenches his fists before shoving them into his pockets.

"… Yes. She was."

Had I been a better General, had I been able to neutralize the threat sooner, I wouldn't be grieving the death of my brothers and sisters. Whether it is part of Fate's plans or not, I can't help but be filled with throbbing guilt. This isn't right. This should never had happened at all. Levanael was a faithful warrior of the Lord. She should not have died like that. Neither should have Miz, Pmox, Ephra, Yasen, Ecaop, Hcoma, Siosp, Camael, Riemu... All the losses that have drained the Garrison since it was formed.

I look up, feeling a shiver running through my wings, and realize Uriel has spread his ethereal wings to embrace me with their entire wingspan. Our wings are touching, his warm and comforting feathers pressed against mine.

My brother is staring at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes, and I remember the last time he touched me so tenderly, when I was draining out of my life-force in his arms, mortally wounded by Camael.

He doesn't make this contact last more than three seconds, folds his wings behind his back and silently turns away. I shove those thousand years old memories back and struggle to find some kind of control over the emotional turmoil roaring inside of me.

An Angel is not meant to show emotions. I shouldn't even be able to _have_ them.

"We have no other choice now." Judging by the tone of his voice, Uriel is on edge. "Alastair didn't even flinch when I was torturing him, and he couldn't be the one to kill Levanael, he was trapped here. Someone else is killing our brothers and sisters, and we need to find out who and how. We need your righteous man at work before the whole Garrison gets slaughtered."

I glance at the door and its dirty window through which I can see Alastair gazing around with dispassionate curiosity, as though he were simply visiting the place willingly.

"This is what the Council came to decide too," I say flatly. "They order us to go and collect Dean together."

"Orders are orders. Let’s not waste time."

I nod and we unfurl our wings together. In a wingbeat, the warehouse's shadows are replaced by the apartment currently rented by the Winchester brothers. There are two windows facing each other, and the open curtains let a pale flow of artificial light pour into the room. I take a look at the two beds, the table, the chairs, and squint as I examine the walls, which are made of what might appear to be wood, but is actually composed of a mix of artificial materials and products precisely crafted to look like wood. Yet another mystery of Humanity that I will never unravel.

Uriel scowls at the paintings on the walls.

"The decoration is hideous." He glares at the painting depicting a man riding a horse. "The hairless apes have always been crude and arrogant, but in the last two thousand years they reached new heights."

I frown as I look at the painting too.

"You're being dramatic. The proportions are remarkably well illustrated."

"It’s horseshit."

Uriel seems to regard the topic as closed, for he turns around and stares intently at the door.

"Where are your monkeys?"

I breathe out an annoyed sigh.

"The Winchesters are Father's chosen ones, not primates. You should stop calling them that."

"You're right, it's offensive to the monkeys who've never done anything wrong. But I will call them as I please, you’re no longer in a position to give me orders." He faces me, his eyes burning with barely contained anger. "When this is all over, I hope that you will come to your senses and return to who you once were, Castiel. Zachariah thinks highly of you, but I know you better than anyone else. And if the Garrison and you in particular weren't so infatuated with the hairless apes, we wouldn't be in this situation today!"

I avert my eyes and square my shoulders, staring into the void as I try to contain the guilt and shame of not living up to my rank and protecting the Garrison as I swore I would.

There is a moment of silence before Uriel's voice rises, quieter. Softer.

"Everything will be better soon, you'll see."

I open my mouth to answer, when I hear the roar of a motor getting louder and louder, until we see through the window the Winchester's black vehicle parking in front of the building.

"Look who’s there..." Uriel whispers, smirking.

I stare straight ahead again and shove my hands into my pockets as a metallic rattle unlocks the door. I feel empty.

I was unable to lead the Garrison, nor could I live up to the hierarchy's expectations. I failed in my role as General, and now I feel unworthy of my Guardian title. I’m unable to protect Dean.

"Home crappy home," Dean sighs as he enters, dropping his bag on the floor.

Sam presses the switch, and the room is flooded with artificial light.

"Winchester and Winchester," Uriel greets them, is voice laced with sarcasm.

At least he didn't insult them.

"Oh _come on_!" Dean exclaims angrily.

"You are needed," says Uriel.

"Needed? We just got back from needed!"

By the way he's raising his voice, he's really angry now.

"Now, you mind your tone with me."

"No, you mind your damn tone with us!" Dean snaps back as he steps forward, glowering.

"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam speaks more submissively, stepping in front of his older brother.

Lined with black veins, the demon blooded boy's face is frequently twisting into an evil grin, his eyes hollowing into their sockets. But I do notice some improvement compared to the last time I saw him - now his human facial expressions are dominant. And at this moment they convey both indignation and dread.

"Pamela!" Dean continues in a sarcastic tone. "You know, psychic Pamela? You remember her. Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out!"

My shortened name brings me to meet Dean's eyes, my Grace coming to a halt in my veins. I didn't know the name of the woman who paid the high price for my refusal to take a vessel to speak to the righteous man. I have been so busy with the upcoming Apocalypse that I didn't even try to find out - actually, I nearly forgot about that incident.

Aren't we meant to be merciful? We are soldiers, but our original mission has always been to protect Father's creations.

"Remember that? Good times!" Dean adds scathingly.

If it weren't for the Apocalypse and all the new responsibilities that have engulfed me since I came back from Hell, I probably would have had the idea to request a derogation to fix this incident by healing her and erasing her memory. But this is impossible in wartime. Any Apocalypse involves collateral damage, and despite our best efforts, we are less than one million celestial beings - Angels, Archangels, Cherubs with or without rank included. 898,328 officially. Or rather, 898 327 now that Levanael has been killed. And this number includes Gabriel, who has not been seen again since Jesus Christ died on the cross.

I'm aware of this, but Dean's accusation still strikes home, exposing one of my shameful failures.

"Yeah, then she died saving one of your _precious seals_. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!"

At Dean's outburst, I averted my eyes, clenching my fists in my pockets.

This woman - Pamela - was twice the victim of my arrogance. After losing her sight, she died because of my reckless initiative, which never was approved by my superiors. Even though my plan ultimately resulted in a victory, I used the Winchesters and my own siblings as pawns and things could have gone very wrong. Dean and Sam could have died. Out of sheer selfishness and pride, I led Baradiel and Levanael into the ugliest kind of disobedience, and if it weren't for Uriel who assumed responsibility for my actions, we all might have ended up in rehabilitation or executed.

Uriel remains impassive to the righteous man's anger, and even lazily stretches out his wings.

"We raised you out of hell for _our_ purposes."

He sounds calm, but I can see right through his act. I know Uriel far too well not to tell that he's dying to torch both the Winchesters and this entire city to ashes. Dean tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

"Yeah, what were those again? What exactly did you want from me?"

"Start with _gratitude_."

His aura is pulsating with irritation while Dean mimics a thank you with a fake smile. The insolence he's displaying is only making the situation worse. Again, I can't let Uriel and Dean interact without worrying that they will throw themselves at each other's throats - and Dean is merely a Human. He's no match for an Angel, let alone one as powerful as Uriel.

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand..."

"And we don’t _care,_" Uriel sharply cuts off my attempt at diplomacy, throwing me a warning glance.

He turns his head back to Dean, and his deep voice echoes through my head coldly.

** _I won't let you jeopardize this mission, Castiel._ **

I freeze and stare at a distant point again, hurt in my pride. Uriel is right, though. He lacks diplomacy and strategy, but he carries out God's will without questioning it, which is what I should do too. He can hardly be worse than Anna or me at the Garrison's command.

"Now, seven angels have been murdered," says Uriel. "All of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" asks Dean more calmly. "How they doing it?"

"We don't know."

"I’m sorry," Sam steps in, slightly stuttering and smiling nervously, "but what do you want us to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"

Levanael has been slain although we had Alastair. So he was not the one who had the weapon when we captured him. And he's the only one who can tell us where to find it now - unless the weapon is actually a very powerful demon, like Sam suggested? No one knows exactly what Lucifer created in Hell, besides demons and Hell Hounds. Did he create some kind of monster that can kill us?

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," Uriel huffs, offended.

"Once we find whoever it is," I explain.

Uriel turns his head just enough to watch me from the corner of his eye.

_**Castiel...**_ he growls as a warning.

** _Let me talk to him_****_, Uriel. _ ** ** _I know Dean_****_. I can persuade him to obey us._ **

**_You're delusional,_** he replies irately. _**Your little monkey is unreasonable. But go ahead, **__**do try, **__**let's have a good laugh.**_

"So you need _our_ help hunting a demon?" asks Dean, smiling in disbelief.

I take a few steps forward to join my brother and face the Winchesters.

"Not quite."

Impassive, Uriel turns his head to look at me.

** _Hurry, my patience is running out._ **

My wings twitch as I search for words. Knowing that Dean consistently objects to any threat or order, how am I supposed to explain the situation to him in a way that will make him agree to willingly help us? How can I find the right words when I disapprove of Heaven's orders myself?

"We have Alastair," I start warily.

"Great. He should be able to name your trigger man."

"But he won't talk. Alastair's will is very strong."

Dean looks down with a grim smile.

I don't think he understands what I'm trying to imply yet, but asking directly is hard. I've held his soul in my hand and felt how much this decade as a torturer undermined and corrupted him.

"We've arrived at an impasse," I insist.

Once again, he doesn't take the hint.

"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league."

"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel chimes in, clearly annoyed by my precautions. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

Dean's face freezes into a blank mask, and he looks down in silence.

"Dean..." I say softly. "You are our best hope"

I'm torn between my duty as a Guardian and my duty as a General. I wish I could protect Dean, but orders are orders, and I desperately want to prevent any more of my brothers and sisters from being slayed. I wish that none of my soldiers had died, and I still hold hope that I can stop the Apocalypse.

There are so many things I wish for. So many delusional things linked to the notion of free will that I don't even believe in. I never truly did. It's impossible to believe in freedom when you're an Agent of Fate.

Since when did hope and deception build a place inside of me? I used to wish for nothing. Nothing at all. I obeyed, and that was enough.

Dean looks up at us with sharp green eyes, his jaw set and eyebrows furrowed.

_"No_," he snarls. "No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not _this_."

Dean is talking to me directly, not to Uriel. As if I could save him.

But I'm not in charge, Dean. I'm nothing but a pawn, just like you. I have no power of decision. I never have and never will.

** _Impressi_ ** ** _ve, _ ** Uriel's mocking voice echoes in my head. ** _ So much for persuading him. Let's try my way instead, shall we? You know, the efficient one._ **

With a smirk on his face, my brother steps heavily toward Dean, spreading his wings. He leans in to look him in the eye.

"Who said anything about asking?"

I look away and press my lips together as I spread my wings, flying along with Uriel as he wraps his aura around Dean and carries him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the next chapter**
> 
> _"You mean I was on Angel Airlines? Oh shit, I got angelic travel sickness..."  
"You'll get used to it, Dean."  
"I don't think I will."_


End file.
